


Poppies

by Hephastia



Category: Marvel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 18:25:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 51,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19773865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hephastia/pseuds/Hephastia
Summary: Stories with the Avengers, with and without Emma Harrington. Events happen before, during and after the events in The Armorer, Duty, and Star Dust. Characters from Marvel appear with original characters.Originally published on Wattpad.





	1. Budapest

Evasion is done better in the summer, Natasha Romanov thought as she blended in with the lunchtime crowd in Budapest. January in northern climates were a pain. Cold and snowy, and hidden ice was always a risk when moving at speed. Hours of daylight were limited, which was both a plus and a minus. The plumes made by your breath could easily betray you if you were trying to hide. On the plus side, with everybody bundled up in thick coats, hats and scarves, it was easy to blend in and her trademark red hair was covered and unremarkable.

Niko Constantine had been sent by the Red Room to track her down and bring her back. The Wolf Spider made her nervous, and she didn't understand why they were still sending him out on missions. He was unreliable, refusing to work with his handler or follow protocols. And he was more violent than he needed to be. There were rules and protocols, even in work like this, but he ignored them when it was convenient to do so.

And now there was this other guy. Hair an unremarkable brown, face that was pleasant enough but not handsome or even cute, and not ugly enough to be interesting. But he moved with discipline and training. She wondered what government had sent him. It would make a difference in her tactics if she knew what type of training he'd had, what expectations his handlers would have for the mission.

She immediately halted the idle speculation and concentrated on her objective, which was to shake her two tails. She detoured through a few shops, exiting through the back as they'd expect her to, but also making a few quick purchases, easily concealed in the pockets of her puffy black coat, unremarkable and just like the coats of about a third of the pedestrians out today. Finally, she went into the largest store in the area, pulling off her hat, scarf and gloves in the midst of the crowd, and putting on a dark green beret and plain blue scarf and gloves. Her newly dyed dark chestnut hair hung straight, unlike her usual curls. She switched her walk to add a lot more hipsway and slowed down slightly. She walked right past Constantine, who gave her no notice. The other guy was still watching in her direction, however. As she walked past a restaurant, she deliberately bumped into a single man, and after apologizing, accepted his invitation to lunch. Spies have to eat and use the bathroom too, so she had a pleasant lunch and touched up her makeup to subtly change the shape of her lips, contouring her face a little differently, arching her brows a bit more. She agreed to a date with the man. Too bad she'd be long gone, he seemed nice. But nice wasn't for women like her.

She changed hats again after lunch, this time a stocking hat in a dark blue to match her scarf and gloves. She didn't see evidence of either tail, but it was too early to relax. She had to make one pass this evening, then she could blow out of town and into her new life. Freelancing. It had a strong appeal.

She spent the afternoon browsing through stores. She'd have liked to go to a movie, stop moving, relax a bit, but sitting down gives your opposition time to find you, to disrupt your work, kill you if the mission is important enough. She settled into a waiting pattern; outwardly calm and interested in her shopping, inwardly she reviewed barre exercises to reinforce the external calm. First position, second, third, fourth, fifth. Tendu front, side, back. Degage front, side, back. The concentration helped keep her mind clear and the memories that led her toward this moment at bay. Grand battement front, side, back. It wasn't so much the killing; some of the people she'd liquidated were truly better off for it. It wasn't the occasional theft; that was kind of a thrill. It wasn't the injuries she'd received or the people she'd had to fuck, either, although the brutality of the last man was still felt deep in her tissues even though the bruises around her wrists and ankles and the cuts he'd inflicted had healed. Demi plie in first, full plie in first. It was the culmination of it all, really. The feeling that she'd done a lot of bad things to a lot of people, whether or not they'd deserved what they'd gotten. And sometimes they didn't deserve what had happened. Some of those who did had had families who were depending on them, who didn't know how black their souls really were. Demi plie in second, full plie in second.

So this was her chance. With this database, she'd have enough leverage to strike out, choose her own jobs. Where she could choose how to execute the mission, when or if to seduce, when to fight, when to kill. She would be able, for the first time in her memory, to relax. Slightly.

She liked Budapest a lot, usually. The two roads that encircled the city and the roads that radiated out through it always reminded her of the facets of a gemstone. The city was beautiful, as well. She took the Chain Bridge across the Danube into Buda. From there, she got a Dobos torte at Ruszwurm, the oldest confectionary in the city, and strolled through Castle Hill, finally fetching up at Fishermen's Bastion. It was probably her favorite place in Buda. It was a lot more fun to wander around in during the warmer months, but the dusting of fresh snow it currently boasted was enchanting. She walked from her favorite vantage overlooking the Hungarian Parliament building, moving with purpose toward a massive arch, the bulb in the lighting fixture blowing out. She had the tiny envelope with the payment in her hand; it contained an account number and password instead of physical payment, and as she trotted down the stairs, past the imposing, watchful statues, she brushed the hand of a woman coming up. The envelope left her fingers and an external drive placed in her hand. Without breaking stride, she tucked it into her pocket--a careful slit in the pocket allowed the drive to fall into her parka, more secure. She exited the bastion, passing by the ornate statue of St. Stephen. She felt a searing pain on the side of her neck and knew it for the graze of a bullet. She ducked around the base of the statue into more gunfire, this time not silenced. People in the square screamed and ran; Natasha brought out her own guns and prepared. She ran across the square to Matthias Church and was hit by a ricochet in the hip before she'd gone three paces. She exerted her will and ran, stuffing the pain down until she could unpack it later. From the firing patterns, Nico had brought a friend. They seemed to be herding her toward the church, which made her wary, but she made it up the steps and through St. Mary's door without further incident.

Moving swiftly and silently, she came up behind a man watching the main entry, a pistol held discreetly down against his leg. She snapped his neck and shoved him out of sight in the stairwell of the Matthias tower, (she felt kind of bad about that, but at least she hadn't spilled blood in the church) picked up his gun (no point in letting it go to waste) and blended in with a group of parishioners leaving the church, discreetly dropping away as they stood in shock, looking at the police cars with their flashing lights, responding to reports of gunshots. The whine of gunshots made everybody in the square duck for cover; screams and shouts rang through the cold night air and at least one person had been hit.

That person was not Natasha. She stood up, emptied the magazines of her gun and the found gun at Niko and his little friend, dropping the gun she'd picked up, and ran for her life, putting the police between herself and them. She could see the conveyance pulling up to Chain Bridge and ran with all her might, catching it just before it pulled away. It was almost deserted. She smiled cheerily and the other passengers and went to sit behind them, concealing her injuries. The puffy black coat helped a lot.

Next step; evacuation. A stop by her hotel to pick up her essentials, and she was in the wind. She'd travel a bit before setting up business for herself. She just had to get out of here first.

She'd taken a room at the Corinthia, which went against most of her training as it was expensive and not low key. However, it was large and had a good turnover rate. She returned there only to sleep and shower, had never seen staff except for check in, and felt fairly anonymous. She got out of the cab near Vajdahunyad Castle, which, except for the agricultural museum, was free and open twenty four hours a day. She touched up her makeup in the cab, making it seem like she was meeting someone there, then slipped into the shadows. Her intuition told her that she was being followed. She went down by the moat, avoiding the light, moving lightly. Stepping behind a big tree, she waited until the person following her passed, then cocked the pistol as a warning. The sound brought the man to an abrupt halt, and he turned to face her. In the dim light, she could see it was the mystery man from earlier in the day.

"We haven't met," he said blithely. "I'm Clint."

"I don't care," she said. "Why are you following me?" His attention was caught behind her and before she could turn to examine why, he'd flicked what she'd taken to be a big roll of paper open and had an arrow nocked on a bowstring. A threatening thrum, the arrow was away and there was a splash. Natasha looked into the moat to see a man floating in the water, bobbing gently up and down.

"Come on. You have other suitors," he said urgently, and in a split second she made up her mind and followed. He led her back to the Corinthia, but not to her room. His, apparently. He hadn't unpacked either, and what she could see of his wardrobe was mostly black. Although there were some purple boxers there. Huh. "You ok?" he asked, emerging from the bathroom with a dop kit and a handful of hotel toiletries.

"Nothing severe," she said.

"Take off your coat," he instructed, and she wordlessly showed him the graze on her neck and the bullet wound on her hip. He trotted to the bathroom and she could hear him wash his hands, returning with a warm damp washcloth. She used this to clean the graze on her neck, and hissed as he flicked the bullet out of her hip. "Good thing that was almost spent when it hit you," he observed, and unzipped something from his suitcase. She yelped at the splash of alcohol on the wound, then slapped a gauze pad on and taped it. "Go get your stuff. Bring it back here. I don't think there's much time," he said, and she put her coat on and returned to her room, thinking about running. But as the door clicked behind her as she entered the hall with her suitcase, she heard the elevator stop and hustled back down to that guy's room. The door closed behind her just as the elevator doors opened. The man--Clint--extinguished the lights and flipped the deadbolt, drawing her back into the room. The curtains were shut, leaving the room black. It wasn't long before they could hear voices speaking Russian. Nico. He was agitated, swearing at having lost her, describing what he'd do to her if he got the chance. Made her wish for vagina dentata. Then they started knocking on doors. She could see a shadow pass over the door's peephole. It took awhile, but they gave up and left. Clint listened intently.

"They're gone," he said normally, and brushed past her to turn on the lights. "Ok," he said. "Here's the thing. I've been sent here to kill you. My boss thinks you're a little too dangerous to be operating."

Her heart beat a little faster, but she didn't betray her concern by so much as the flick of an eye. "And what's your opinion?"

"I think you're going rogue," he said, surprising her. She barely managed to control a blink, turning it into a narrowing of her eyes instead. "And I think that represents an opportunity. I've been watching you," he said softly. "I think you're here in Budapest not just for the shopping and the wonderful array of headgear they have for the winter but to make one final score that will enable your independence, and that guy was here to stop you. And then you'd either retire or set up shop for yourself."

"And what if you're correct?" she said levelly.

"Well, if it's the former, maybe I could turn the other way. If it's the latter... that's harder to negotiate." He looked at her. "But it doesn't have to end in your end," he said with a bit of a grin. "I think you've got some skills that could be useful to an organization I work for."

"I'm tired of being told what to do," she said, a touch sullenly.

He measured her, then nodded. "What if you got the assignment but could plan how to execute it?" That caught her interest. He nodded again. "I've been watching you for some time now, Natasha Romanov." Her heart kicked at the sound of her name. This was more than something casual. "I've seen you in action. You've got some very specific training. Espionage. Theft. Seduction. Execution. Hacking. It's impressive. So here's what I'm offering. Not to kill you, but to bring you in. My boss will most likely make you my partner. I'd be responsible for you since I'm recruiting you. I'm a marksman myself, but I could use some help with other aspects of missions. I'm not going to say we're on the side of the angels, but I actually do believe that we're operating with a fair amount of decency and fairness, for a covert ops agency. You'd be joining a team. We don't get together for a kumbayah circle and smores, but we have each other's back."

They stared at each other. Clint seemed fine with waiting for her to decide, not pushing her.

"Who do you work for?"

"Every heard of SHIELD?"


	2. Graveside

Three men stood well back from the backhoe that was excavating a grave. It was early morning and fog was burning off. The dark haired man yawned. The blond man yawned. "Stop it, brother," he said testily and the dark haired man smirked.

"Did you really get permission from her to retrieve the ring?" the third man asked. He looked the oldest, but he was younger than the other two by... quite a lot.

"Yes, she said that she would remove the piece of Mjolnir and restore it," the blond man said. "Of course, that was before she died, so it will take a little longer now."

They watched as a crew began to raise the casket. "Bucky's funeral was nice," Peter said, looking at the new grave next door that the men were trying to avoid messing up.

Thor nodded. "I was surprised to find that strings had been pulled, as you say, to lay him to rest beside his great companion."

Peter started to laugh, quietly. "No strings needed. Emma did that when Steve died. Because Cap died heroically, during a major battle, it was thought that it was appropriate for a great big funeral, and the President agreed. They sent a major down to let her know they were taking over, and essentially, she told them to go away. That Steve had been her husband, and although the government owned the "Captain America" persona, Steve was hers. So they sent a two-star general to intimidate her." The other men started to laugh. Loki guffawed, although he suppressed it at the work crew's frowns. It was apparently sacriligious to laugh while they disinterred the superhero icon Captain America. Arlington was a place to remember and reflect on sacrifice, with appropriate solemnity.

"I know, right?" Peter said, still speaking quietly. "She said that while he'd been sitting on his ass in the Pentagon pushing papers--they'd brought him from the quartermaster corps, he was the only one handy just then--that she'd been defending the world from aliens and bathing in blood." Loki snorted. "Right, so typical, and she said that she wasn't impressed and that he had a lot to learn about intimidation. So they sent a one-star general in to sort of bolster the other one, but this one was smarter. He listened to what she wanted, and in exchange for a state funeral with all the trimmings, including her participation, they gave her the short form of the funeral mass with minimal chanting and singing and incense, one eulogy--'you'd better make it count,' she said in that way that was like she was threatening you-- that the Avengers would carry Steve's casket to the grave, and that when it came time, that Bucky would be buried right next to him. That last condition was the sticking point, but she threatened to have him cremated and scatter the ashes, and that was that. They had to produce the promise in writing before she'd let them take him."

"I was surprised Barnes lived so long," Loki said.

"I don't think he wanted to leave her," Peter said softly. "As it was, she died just hours after he did. And that turned out for the best, because it was easy enough to put some of her ashes in his casket with him. It took longer to get him down here and buried."

"And now this part. What are the plans for the rest of her ashes?" Thor asked.

"Well, after you retrieve the ring--I feel like I'm in a movie quest--I'll place the other bag with her ashes in with Steve. Then there's just a small amount left. I already put a little bit in the Avengers Memorial Garden outside the tower, in with the pansies and the poppies. Ash is supposed to be good for the soil and plants, and she loved her gardens. When Tony dies--he'll probably live forever, though--the last of it will be sprinkled on his casket once it's in the grave. She didn't want to be buried with him, she said, because she didn't want to be trapped forever with him. But she also didn't want him to be alone. He never has found a great love, and I think she always felt sorry for him."

"She'd be quick to say it was probably his own damn fault," Loki murmured, and the others grinned.

Peter snorted. "I think he was in love with her for some time." The other two stepped away in surprise, turning to examine him. "She wasn't as smart as he is, but she was the only one who could get him to change, was never afraid to go toe to toe with him and win an argument with him and make it stick." Peter sighed. "He's been seeking solace in single malt and he's going to rot out his liver if he doesn't watch it, but he won't listen to me. She didn't remember the first time they met, he didn't make any kind of impression on her, but Tony does, he hit on her when she was touring the labs with a group of college grads they wanted to recruit. He said he'd get her a job. You can imagine how well that went over." Thor rolled his eyes.

"She always said he used his money and influence like a cudgel," Loki said, shaking his head. "It's not like she needed the help."

"And he didn't take getting turned down well, it bugged him off and on, and when he had the opportunity, he fired her, kind of payback for that, I think, also out of jealousy for the relationship she'd had with his father. She thought of it as a mentorship, but Tony said once that his father acted more like she was his daughter, and his plans were for her to eventually take over as head of the research labs. Her future would be secure with a good job and increasing responsibility, the company would benefit, and it would have been really good for her, in terms of her interests and abilities, and recognition of her abilities and achievements. She was an inspirational leader."

"Tony," Thor sighed.

"Yeah. And then, when she was recruited for the Avengers, he really did fall in love with her, but she didn't feel more than friendship. Usually. Even when she wasn't with Steve, she never trusted Tony enough to be more than friends, when that was possible. And he moved on, after it was clear to him that he didn't have a chance."

"She never forgot a slight or insult," Loki said, smirking.

"She didn't usually actively carry a grudge--at least not until Rogers' first death--but she never forgot," Thor agreed.

"Our Emma was a blunt-force object sometimes," Loki murmured.

The men called them over, opening the casket lid and stepping back. The three approached and looked in. Thor grimaced. Steve Rogers wasn't handsome anymore, but at least he was dessicated rather than...gooey. Peter frowned. "I thought I'd put it over his heart, but..." Time had allowed his chest to settle in over the gaping holes the alien projectiles had torn into his body.

Loki snorted, took the tightly-woven muslin bag from Peter, a little ash sifting out, and dropped it on the fly of the uniform pants. "They couldn't get enough of each other," he noted, and Peter laughed, deep and genuine, stepping back. Thor smiled and removed a heavy band of metal from the wasted finger, checking the inside for the spot of uru that Emma had set in the ring. They stepped back, Thor nodding to the crew, who began the process of putting the casket back into the ground.

"I'm a little fuzzy about how you're going to get the piece out of the ring and back on your hammer," Peter said as they began walking away. "I thought only she could do it."

"She will," Loki said. "The Allfather will take her the hammer and the ring."

"What?" Peter said, stopping in confusion.

"The Allfather sent his Valkyries for her after her death," Thor said matter-of-factly.

"That's the phrase, but usually he just dispatches one," Loki clarified. "But in Emma's case, he sent two, and told them not to come back without her."

"One would have done," Thor said dismissively. "All the Valkyrie needed to say was that Rogers and Barnes were waiting for her."

"Were they?" Peter's voice was low. Thor shot him a quick look and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"They were, and glad they were to see her," he said gently. "Steve was waiting for her those long decades. But Odin will take her these things and she will exert her will, and the hammer will be whole and Steve will have his ring back."

"They were all really good to me," Peter said, squinting.

"What did she leave you?" Thor asked.

"She left her jewelry to MJ and our daughter May," Peter said, glad for the shift of topic. "She always liked MJ, and May's been like her granddaughter. She's taking it pretty hard. Some museums have been in contact, wanting to acquire some of the pieces, but they're not interested. Her costumes, all of her Avengers stuff were in the museum already. The Costume Institute is angling for her collection of clothing; she had some great vintage pieces, as well as things she made, some from designs Steve did for her. She left me the shield that she made for Steve in the jungle, the house and more money than I know what to do with. Another chunk went to her alma mater for scholarships in STEM subjects for women applicants, and the last big chunk to the Avengers trust for victims of supervillain crimes. She left Tony a vial of her truth serum/perfume stuff, along with the formula and a handwritten notation that one stage in the synthesis has to be performed by somebody who can do the push on the atoms, and that was why he could never duplicate it. I got the distinct impression that she was cheerfully thumbing her nose at him one last time. And a set of cufflinks she'd made when she had her store. There were a couple other individual bequests, a few things for her lawyer Foggy, Damian and Alex Wayne, Wonder Woman, and Supergirl, but of all the Avengers she served with, only you, Tony, and I are still around. You did get the little hammer Odin gave her and the knife she made, right? I sent them to the embassy." Thor nodded.

"Banner is still alive on the planet he chose after the arena," Loki said, surprising Peter greatly. "Heimdall has seen him. He ages, but more slowly, and barring an accident, I believe he has double his years to look forward to. He does well. His rage has mellowed over the decades and he wanders the land almost calmly."

"He's mostly only cranky these days," Thor added. "What about the second shield she made?"

"That remains with the current Captain America. The vibranium one is in the museum. I haven't decided whether to pass down the shield I have to May or to donate it to the museum when the time comes."

"Is May still determined to pursue the path of the hero?" Thor asked.

Peter huffed out a sigh. "Yes, and it's giving me fits. Now I understand what Emma went through. It's terrifying to watch her swinging over the streets, getting hurt, and she's much more of a fighter than I was. She did say she's waiting til after grad school is over to really get into it, Tony is pushing for her to come work for the company, says he'll make it easy for her to do both. Bastard. I regret agreeing to take over the company for him, but he played the old man card, saying that he needed someone he could trust to carry it into the future."

Loki laughed, a quicksilver peal of delight. "You sounded so much like her in that moment. She often threw in a 'bastard' when talking about Stark, always friendly, of course."

"Of course," Peter said, rolling his eyes. "How are Sigurd and Torburn?"

"They grieve," Thor said simply. "They refuse to submit to Baldur again, after he took them from her that time. They refuse to bond with another warrior, even me. My son Magni offered, but Sigurd just gave him that look that he learned from her, and that was the end of that. Odin is losing his patience and might just send them to Folkvangr after all." Peter smiled.

"Magni takes after his father too much," Loki twitted his brother.

"I am forced to admit that he is occasionally thickheaded," he admitted. "The bane of his mother's existence, at times, but she does well."

"How's your dad doing?" Peter asked. "I only met him once, but he was pretty scary. I was amazed that she stood up to him."

Thor laughed. "She understood that he appreciated her plain opinion, however, even she never pushed too hard. Farther than most, however. It was to regain her good opinion and trust that he changed his mind on our treatment of women. He found it uncomfortable that she would fear him."

"He certainly didn't do it for you or me," Loki smiled.

"That he did not," Thor agreed. "But he is starting to fail, and I fear it will not be long before he passes from the citadel to take his permanent rule of Valhalla."

"King Thor awaits," Loki teased, poking him. "Preparing to serve...what are they called? Yes, buffalo wings in celebrations. And 'Pop Tarts' at breakfasts." He laughed and Peter smiled, shaking his head.

They reached the road. Peter had driven himself, but a driver waited for the brothers. Loki refused to let Thor drive any more. "I guess this is it," Peter said, jingling his keys. "Take care, you guys. Tell her hi for me, if you get the chance. I miss her," he said, and after manly hugs, got into his car and edged away. The Asgardians watched him off before walking to their own car.

"Father has said that if Peter falls in the next Kree invasion, he will consider sending a Valkyrie for him," Thor mentioned. Loki quirked an eyebrow. "But it must be his decision to fight. Even now they approach."

"The Allfather will have to add a special wing in Valhalla just to house those he brings there to make her happy," Loki said wryly. Thor punched his shoulder, Loki winced and stepped away.

"The last in question now are young Peter and Stark," Thor said.

"My poor Emma," Loki said instantly. "Trapped for an eternity with Stark. Precisely what she hoped to avoid."

Thor laughed. "She's more than a match for him, and in any case, Rogers and Barnes will keep the peace. Or not, the others in Valhalla always love a good fight. Just the other day, Wayland the smith disparaged her ability. She immediately challenged him to a competition to see who could craft the best sword. Odin was there at the time, visiting our mother, and judged hers the finer. It was the edge of the blade that tipped it. Wayland lost and is enduring ridicule for his boasts. Though not, surprisingly, losing to a woman."

"What?"

"They are learning a healthy respect for her," Thor said, grinning. "And it does no harm that Frigga is delighted with her."

"I shall endeavor to avoid Valhalla," Loki said.

"You and I both, brother. It sounds too lively for me."


	3. Fractures

Bucky walked in to see see Stark talking to Steve. He shut up abruptly when he saw Bucky, but then relaxed. "Thought you were Emma," Stark said. He returned his attention to Steve. "But this is a really good bet."

"What are you trying to talk him into?" Bucky asked, with a certain amount of jaundice.

"Just a cure," Stark said intensely. Then backpedaled. "Well, a treatment, anyway." Bucky passed Steve a glass of water as Stark explained that a couple of biochemists thought that they had a way to revitalize the serum in Steve; perfuse the cells with a jump-start cocktail, then hit it with the Vita-ray, the plans for which had just been rediscovered.

"There's a drawback," Steve said quietly as he set down the glass. Bucky got a pang as he looked at his friend, older every time he saw him.

"Of course there is," Bucky sighed.

"I have to die first," Steve said with resignation.

"This is not a good idea," Bucky said immediately.

"Actually, it is, James," Natasha said, coming in with Barton close behind. Bucky's light and her shadow. "It might take a couple of months until the Vita-Ray is tested, but after the treatment, odds are really good that we'll have Steve back. We need our field commander. You know there's nobody like him." She gestured to the four of them. "We're all that's left from the original Avengers. We've expanded, but we're the core group. We're responsible for each other."

"Does Emma know?"

"No, and if Steve agrees, you have to agree not to tell her," Stark said rapidly. "She could shut this whole thing down, but it really isn't her call. It's Rogers', to decide whether he wants to do it or not."

Bucky couldn't argue with that, but... "Do you want to to this?" he asked his closest friend.

"I do, Buck," Steve said immediately. "I'm not ready to die. There's so much I still want to do. We've got a lot of time to make up for, you and I. And I just got married, Buck. An eternity isn't enough with her, but I want to at least make it past our first anniversary."

Bucky leaned back. "Tell me," he said resignedly. He listened as Stark described the treatment, Natasha adding helpful details. Barton listened and watched. After the others left, he had a heart to heart with his friend.

"Honestly, Buck, if you and Emma weren't in the picture, I probably wouldn't be jumping at the opportunity. All I'd have to look forward to would be more battles, more scouting, just...more of the same. And that's not much of a life. But I don't want to leave the two of you without at least putting up a good fight." He was silent a moment. "Continuing as the Avengers' leader is just the price I'll have to pay, and I'm willing to do it because the reasons for it are so powerful. If I die in spite of the treatment, well, at least I'll have tried. The thing is, there's a third possibility--live, die, or...something else. I might be a vegetable, or something that isn't me anymore. Stark promised that if that third possibility is what happens, he'll put me out of my misery. And that's why I don't want Emma to know about this. She'd never give up. And I don't want to be...not me."

"I think you're misjudging her," Bucky said quietly. "She's strong enough that she'd let you go." But his friend wouldn't listen.

"There's another thing," Steve said, then hesitated. Bucky waited. "I'm starting to get a little foggy now, so I want to be sure to tell you this when I'm in my right mind. I've already talked to Tony about this. When I die, if it's possible, I want you to take up the role of Captain America." He held up his hand to still his friend's protests. "People don't know me, they know the symbol, and it's reassuring to them to have somebody they feel is on their side, fighting to protect them. Whoever takes it up after me is going to have a hard time of it, because it's a change and people don't like change that impacts their feeling of security. And there's nobody I trust more than you to get the job done. Get people accustomed to it not being me. Everybody knows we're friends, knows the story. I'm not asking that you do it forever, just long enough that people understand that while the person carrying the shield may change, the commitment doesn't. Sam would be my choice to take it after you. I like the idea of it being a role that a veteran can be slotted for."

Bucky nodded; that seemed reasonable enough. "Ok, I'll be your transition guy," he said.

"One more thing," Steve said. And fidgeted. "Emma. I know you'll keep an eye on her anyway, but I'd like to make a special request that you do, if this doesn't work right. She'll take it hard, but I want her to be happy, to move on. She deserves all the happiness in the world, everything good. So do you, for that matter." He twisted his arthritic, gnarled fingers together restlessly. "I want both of you to be happy, to live long and fulfilling lives, however that works out." He smiled briefly. "Live long and prosper, as that guy Emma likes so much always says." Bucky managed an equally brief smile.

"I"m going to say this just once, then I'll drop it, Stevie," Bucky said. "If Emma finds out about this--and she will, unless the outcome is that you really are dead. She's going to be absolutely furious. She's going to see it as a betrayal of trust. You think she's been mad before? I suspect that you haven't seen the half of it. Her rage is going to be pretty much apocalyptic. And at the heart of it all, it's not respectful to her. It's about what you want, not what she deserves. And I really think you're going to regret it." But Steve wouldn't listen, and then his mind started to wander.

That night, Bucky was getting ready for bed, still thinking about Steve's decline and the treatment that Stark was proposing. He still didn't like it, but he wouldn't do anything to stop it. It was, in the final analysis, Steve's choice. He just thought that the man's wife had the right to know about it.

"James," Natasha purred, coming up behind him soundlessly and wrapping her arms around his torso, caressing the solid muscle before sliding one hand into his pajama bottoms and stroking him. He dropped his head back. If there was one thing he craved, it was to be touched. Contact with another human being. Touch meant that he wasn't subhuman, that there was affection and caring. Steve touched him, pats on the shoulder or arm, thumps on the back, clasps of the hand. Emma always touched him when they spoke, pats on the hand or the forearm or the shoulder, hugs, pecks on the cheek, almost unconsciously, and completely unaware of what it meant to him. Natasha would have sex with him, but she was very reserved unless it was just the two of them. Privately, he felt his ideal woman would be a blend of Emma and Natasha; a woman who was willing to accept him into her body but who would be affectionate in public too. And someone who wasn't his best friend's wife. He let her draw him to the bed, stepping out of his pajamas, stretching out on the sheets, touching and being touched. She parted her legs for him and he kissed his way down to their apex, making her come before moving up her body again and penetrating her. He'd just established a good rhythm when she pushed him onto his back and took over. She'd said, when he'd asked her in irritation why she always had to be on top, that if she was on top, she'd be able to respond to a threat faster. She'd winked at him and said that caution was why she was still alive. Bucky accepted it, but he wished she could trust him more. He refrained from pointing out that 'they' would have to go through him to get to her, and that while she was good, he was better.

He loved her, but was starting to feel that they were together more because of their past affair and because there weren't really a lot of options for either of them. People got twitchy about sleeping with notorious assassins.

He stimulated her more, and she came, her muscles clenching and releasing around him so pleasurably that he came too. He was still catching his breath when she slid off him and lay on his left side.

"So tell me what's really bothering you about this thing with Steve," Natasha said finally.

"What are the estimated probabilities?" he asked getting his head together. "And why are you so set on keeping Emma out of the loop? It's not like she's against experimentation or even being a test subject, for that matter."

"Stark's pet doctors think that the success rate is about 80, 85%," she said immediately. "So it's high, but not a sure thing. So why tell her? If he dies anyway, she never needs to know. If it's a success...well, she's got him back. I don't think she'll be too fussy about how that happened."

"I thought you were friends," he said quietly.

She shrugged. "As much as I can be. You know I have trust issues. Emma's fun and a good person, but... I haven't known her for very long. And I've known Steve for long enough to be loyal to him. He's saved my ass before, trusted me when... well, you know. Trust is hard to come by for people like us." And Bucky understood it. He could see her side, but knew she was underestimating Emma. And that if it didn't go perfectly to plan, with one of the two perfect outcomes--death or his friend's restoration--the consequences were going to be catastrophic.

When he woke up again the next morning, she was gone and he was alone. As usual.

***

Gray light filtered in the windows of the hospital room. It had been cloudy for days and the light was thin and cold. Bucky shuddered. He'd give anything for the warm rich light of a fall day. He stood beside the bed, looking at his best friend, who was chatting. He was glad Steve was alive again, he was, it was just that there'd been... a hangup. He'd been in a coma for a week following his...what? Resurrection? Bucky wasn't comfortable with that, it seemed to be a term that should be reserved for Jesus. Steve was a lot of things, but holy he wasn't, despite a brief stint as an alter boy before the close proximity to so much incense kicked up his asthma. After Steve woke up from the coma, there was still a problem. His memory was scrambled, some of his memory gone, mostly from the past few years. The doctors felt that if he could see his wife and other friends again, that might help stimulate his brain, recover the memories. Bucky was very strongly opposed to this, wanting to give his friend more time to recover on his own. It wasn't like pretty much everybody hadn't been in to see him now, anyway. They'd tried to limit the knowledge to the five of them, but Wanda had found out, then Pietro...word had spread, but nobody wanted to tell Emma, not wanting to run foul of her rather fearsome temper.

But he'd been overruled. Steve had wanted to see his wife again, and the doctors felt that at least it wouldn't hurt. They'd cautioned him that he might not ever remember what was missing.

And now the door was opening. Emma slid inside the room. Stark, the coward, stayed in the hall. From the look on his face, he might be understanding the depth of the fuck up now. Bucky's heart twinged at the sight of her face, still so worn from her grief. The past several months had been very hard on her; she seemed diminished with her cares. She looked curiously at him, twisting the wedding band on her finger, then her gaze fell on Steve, who was looking at her pleasantly. Stark had told him that his wife would be coming to see him, but there was not only a lack of recognition, but a flash of disappointment.

"I remember you from the forest," he said pleasantly as he looked at her. "You made my shield." Her face drained of color.

"Is that all you remember?" she asked faintly, and he nodded. "It's kind of a blur after that," he admitted. "Apparently I got married, though," he said, nodding to his ring on the table. "Where are the kids, Buck?" he said, turning to me. "You don't get married and not have kids. They thought the serum would have prevented me from passing my original defects onto any offspring. I always said I'd name my son after you, remember?"

"Shut up, Steve," he said quietly. Her face had gone so white he couldn't figure out how her brain was still working. And his damned idiot best friend had no idea what he was doing to his wife. Bucky remembered the sacrifice she'd made in the arena as if it had just happened. She wobbled out the door without another word, and he heard the cadence of her voice, speaking to Stark.

"She seemed nice," Steve said, slightly puzzled. "But I thought my wife was coming to see me."

"That was your wife," he hissed. Steve frowned.

"Isn't she a little old for me? Is that why I don't have kids?"

His teeth ground together. He told himself that his brain was scrambled, which is why Steve didn't recognize the light of his life.

Bucky could hear Stark's voice raising in panic as he babbled about how it happened that Steve was alive again.

"Why didn't anybody tell me?" she whispered as he walked to the door.

"Uh--"

"Because we were afraid you'd put a halt to it," he said simply, stepping out of the room and closing the door.

"We thought that if it went wrong, you'd never have to know," Tony babbled. "But then you'd be so glad to see Steve again." His voice faltered. "No?" He wasn't surprised when she hit Stark, and patiently awaited his turn. He deserved it, and more.

"He doesn't remember me, asshole," she hissed to Stark. "Not past when I made the shield."

Tony tested his eye first, then the back of the head. "Con didn't say you'd hit. I thought you'd gotten past the hitting."

"Con? My friend, Constance? What does she have to do with this?" she asked, bewildered.

"We've been dating these past five, six months," Tony muttered. "I mentioned that to her in therapy though." Her face went white again at this additional betrayal, and she looked at Bucky. He couldn't begin to decode all the emotions there, but pain was winning, sucking out the little light and grace she'd recovered after Steve had died the first time. He couldn't keep eye contact, but looked up again when she walked away. She was almost running by the time she hit the end of the hall.

And Bucky knew that the worst part was only beginning.

He gave her some time, then went over to the house. She wasn't answering the door or her phone, and with no sign of Torburn or Sigurd either, figured that she was walking in the woods. Her workshop was also shuttered.

That night, he'd fretted. Nobody had seen her once she'd left the hospital, and nobody'd heard back from the messages they'd left. "It'll be fine," Natasha predicted confidently as she caressed him. "It's got to be a shock. But you know her, she can't resist a challenge. Even if his memory doesn't come back, they can make new ones."

"He might not fall in love with her again," Bucky said tensely. Her hand dropped to his cock, which remained utterly uninterested in play. She dropped to her knees and put her mouth on him, but was still unable to get a reaction. Bucky pulled free and went to the bed, where he held out his hand for her. "Stay with me," he asked her. She lay beside him for awhile, but when her renewed attentions didn't get the result she wanted, she got up.

"I've got some things to do," she said, and left.

He finally fell asleep, hoping that Emma was ok.

The next morning, when he went to visit Steve, his heart froze over when he saw his friend frowning over a note; he had Emma's sapphire engagement ring and her wedding band on his index finger. Bucky dropped nervelessly into the visitor's chair. "She really was my wife?" he asked, his brow knotted up. "These are my rings?" Bucky nodded.

"But she seemed older," he said again.

"You're almost a hundred, punk, you were robbing the cradle," Bucky said, trying to lighten the mood, speaking past the lump in his throat. "The past few months have been really rough on her. But you can trust me when I tell you that she was the light of your life and a huge reason why you tried the treatment. Next time you see her, I strongly advise you to tell her that you were starting to get Alzheimers. That's an excuse she can accept. Blame Stark. He can take it."

"I don't think she's coming back," Steve said, still frowning. He waved the note. "She said she's leaving, and that since death parted us that we are no longer are married and that the doctors aren't encouraged that I'll remember what I've forgotten, she says that my things are in the residence. Where's that?" He shook his head. "You can tell me later. There's also an account number. She says it contains the payout for my life insurance, the money I had in the bank when I died, half the value of the house--we bought a house together?--and interest." He looked at the rings on his finger. "There's no contact information." He was silent, and Bucky couldn't think of anything to say. When Steve spoke again, his voice was tentative and small, like it was when they were kids and the doctor had just told him that he probably wasn't going to grow any taller, and that he was probably not going to be able to do the things he'd dreamed about. Even hiking in the Grand Canyon, a trip they'd been talking about for almost a decade at that point. "Bucky, I'm in trouble, aren't I?"

"Yeah, kid," Bucky said heavily. "I told you when I found out about this that she wasn't going to take it well, that she'd be furious."

"See if you can find her, will you?"

"I've been trying, Stevie. She's not at home or not answering the door, nobody's heard from her or seen her since she left the hospital."

Bucky stuck around long enough for the doctors to come in and do their cognition tests, hearing that Emma'd been by that morning for answers. They didn't really have any. He slid out of the room and went to her workshop. It had been opened, and he could see that things were missing. He walked the path through the gate to her house and found movers taking out boxes and a little table, and a realtor pounding a sign into the yard. He returned to the campus and sought out Fury, who showed him a very tersely-worded resignation letter. At the team meeting that afternoon, Stark reported that she'd put her SUV into long-term parking and vanished.

"You and your schemes," Fury had said tartly to Stark. "Now look where we are."

"We managed without her before," Natasha pointed out.

"But now there won't be any new engines for that motorcycle you liked," Fury snapped. "There won't be any more of the weapons she produced. We've lost the knowledge she'd collected in her head that came in handy when nobody else had answers. Like when you all came back from the Yucatan. And just as important, we've lost the fulcrum that kept us balanced, evened us out. Mark my words, without her abilities and the sacrifices she was willing to make" his gaze flicked over to Pietro "we're headed for the rocks."

Fury was prophetic. Natasha was irritated that he didn't bounce back after Emma's departure; they'd had words about his feelings for Emma, hers for Barton, his visits to Loki, all the irritations that built up in a relationship as well as the foundational issues, and she'd broken it off abruptly. To his relief, the reasons for their breakup remained private. Thanksgiving was the usual celebration at Barton's home, but Christmas was celebrated in the game room. Maria'd hired decorators, so it looked festive and had a tree, but it had been professionally done. The tree was perfect, but it could have belonged to anyone. Nobody's personal ornaments had been incorporated. The whole thing looked corporate and essentially barren of personality. The dinner was delicious, but it lacked homemade rolls and dessert was a bland pumpkin cheesecake rather than something different and spectacular. New Years had confetti and champagne and music, but there was no dancing and it broke up quietly after the toasts to the new year had been made. At the end of the month, Fury had a stroke and the doctors recommended against him trying to go back to work, so he'd reluctantly retired. And then things really went downhill. Thor and Sif spent as much time as possible on Asgard to avoid the infighting. Stark and Steve were at each other's throats more than they were on the same page. Aside from missions, nobody really talked to each other or spent downtime together. Bucky took to visiting Loki instead. First to fill the void Emma had left, then because he started to actually like the guy. He was there when packages that Emma sent from Amazon were delivered. She actually wrote Loki physical letters, delivered by the postal service. There was never a return address, but sometimes she'd include a sprig of some plant or other. Pine, sage, a leaf, a flower. Loki never let him read the letters, but would tell him that she was unharmed--he never said that she was 'ok' or 'fine', and that worried Bucky.

His relationship with his best friend suffered a bit too. He put all his effort into helping Steve recover, helping him unpack his boxes in his room in the residence, going through his sketchbooks with him, including some eye-popping sketches of Emma that mad both of them blush, the pictures and video he'd taken on his phone, the wedding video and photographs. He filled in with information where he could, and gradually Steve recovered most of his memory, which was when the impact of events really hit him. Bucky kept to himself a small, unworthy feeling that Steve deserved what he was getting. If he'd just been honest with Emma from the start, she'd still have been there, helping him through his recovery. But no, she'd gone, and the light and warmth she'd shared was also gone. Steve went out on some dates, but nothing seemed right. Bucky knew he'd slept with a couple of the women, but it didn't seem to fill the hole inside his friend; if anything, he was more restless and out of sorts after the sex. Stark wanted him to track her down, but he refused, and when Steve had added his weight to the argument, he still refused. They'd had the worst fight in the history of their friendship, and finally Bucky had ended it by saying that it was Steve's decision, ultimately, that had put them all on this road and it wasn't up to him to fix it. That she had a right to live her life, having made it very clear why she had left. He'd thought that Steve was going to slug him when he said that Steve should take it like a man, own up to his actions, that he wasn't going to harass Emma, but Steve had just turned abruptly and left.

A few days later, Steve had come by with beer and an apology. And a couple weeks later, he and Stark had hatched a plan to go to her home in Colorado and bring her back. He went along willingly to keep things from getting out of hand. And, frankly, for safety reasons. Emma's temper was kind of scary, and she had the right to be mad. He wanted to keep her from doing anything she'd regret later. Or might regret, anyway. Down the line. Someday.

Besides, he had an apology to make. Long-overdue. He'd emailed her once, but he wasn't sure if she'd ever read it. And he had a little plan of his own. It was kind of craven, but he was desperate to spend a little time with her again. He was scheduled to go out to Wakanda for an upgrade to his arm. He was going to ask if she'd do it instead. It was insanely nervy of him, all things considered, but he was desperate. His life was reduced to work and hanging out with Steve, which was fine as far as it went, but it didn't go far enough. Steve cared, but there was nobody actively checking on him, making him interact, bringing him out when he withdrew. Nobody patting his hand, learning from him, accepting his care, checking to see if he was fine after a mission. He needed to let her know what exactly he had done and why, and apologize for his actions. Even if she didn't agree to help with the arm, he owed her that. It was a burden on his soul that he didn't want to carry, and he was willing to accept the consequences. He didn't have any real hope that Steve and Stark would succeed on their mission; they hadn't reached his point yet, or they'd know that the best they could hope for was to be heard out and to give her a heartfelt apology. Any demands would be rejected, regardless. What was needed was a delicate approach, which is something both of them lacked. Stark was willing--reluctantly--to admit that he'd made a mistake, but he wasn't ready to ask for forgiveness.

He felt lighter as the quinjet lifted and headed to Colorado. One way or another, he'd be doing penance. He might not get absolution, but he'd have made his confession, and he could live with that.

They drove up to a charming house, where she was working on some gardens. It was probably her finest ability, and least appreciated, that she could make any place welcoming. A home, not just a structure to keep the weather off. Even her workshop had been welcoming. Out of habit, he slipped out of the car when Steve and Stark went to talk to her. He was concerned that the dogs weren't in evidence. Surely Thor would have mentioned it if something had happened to them. He also wanted to have a better understanding of the property; he was going to come back later by himself to talk to her and didn't want to trip over a stump or fall into a water feature. He listened as he moved around. She seemed dissociated, and that worried him. And when she mentioned him and he saw her fully for the first time, he'd almost been struck by the knife she'd flipped at him. It was a reflex action; he knew what it was like when she was really dialed in and looking to score the target. He'd been distracted by the toll the past months had taken on her. She'd already been careworn when she'd seen Steve again. Now suffering had etched lines in her face, she'd lost weight, and although she was grooming, she didn't seem to care for her appearance. She'd never been one for hair dye or perfect makeup, but her hair seemed dull, she wasn't putting her usual care into her appearance, and to see her was to be a little depressed too. She radiated pain. She wasn't going to be able to help the Avengers. She couldn't even help herself.

He went back later than he'd planned, but Stark wouldn't go to bed. He kept drinking and muttering about what had gone wrong, questioning why she looked so broken. He didn't get it.

She let him in to talk; he could tell she didn't want to but probably felt that maybe by talking to him she could get all of them to shove off. He laid out his apology--not as eloquent as he'd have liked, but it was sincere--for her and listened to what she had to say. He didn't argue with her or make any suggestions. She didn't need that. He felt that what she wanted was for somebody to understand. To be on her side. And he was, but he pushed her anyway. And after a terror-filled moment, she deflated and said that she would help. He knew not to push his luck and left immediately after thanking her. He'd done what he could. The others... well, they were on their own.


	4. Growth

Bucky looked at the purchase orders for the armory without enthusiasm. He needed more of the dummy rounds that they used for training. He sighed. It meant a call to Stark to let him know to get started, and that meant questioning whether they really needed to be using that many rounds, which meant that he'd retort that at least they weren't using the real rounds meant for the Skrulls and Kree, and... and... He morosely hit Stark's number. In the corridor, he could hear strains of the Beatle's "Back in the USSR" and Stark popped his head into his office.

"Really?" Bucky said, nodding toward the phone. Stark shut it off and smirked.

"Would you prefer "Happiness is a Warm Gun?" "I Am the Walrus?"'

"How about "Don't Need a Gun?"" Bucky asked dryly. "Although we need more dummy rounds. The kids are having trouble mastering them."

Tony frowned. "What's the problem? We didn't have this much trouble learning how to fire them."

"I think it's because they're so heavy. We also had the benefit of getting used to each iteration as you were developing them. They go right to this weight, and it's not easy."

"Huh." Tony sat there and cogitated. Bucky waited patiently. "Lemme try some things. Maybe a counterbalance in the stock of the rifle?" He continued to talk to himself as he got up and ambled out. Bucky smiled and finished with the ordering for the week. He stretched and yawned. Range practice was done, although of course the range remained open for anybody who wanted additional practice. He was likewise done with the day's hand to hand training and weapons training for those who used non-standard weapons. He stood up and briskly strode to the elevator.

Sam might be Captain America now, but there were definite advantages to his role as the Avengers' weapons master. He ran a proprietary eye over his motorcycle. He'd gotten the first one with the new engine Emma had made. Natasha had been jealous when she'd seen it. The guys in the garage had made it look dangerous and cool, with sleek black paint and blackened chrome. He drove home and parked in front of his house, and with the force of habit looked next door. Emma lounged on her porch swing. She smiled at him and raised her glass. "Lemonade."

"I'm going to change first," he said, and she nodded, swinging her feet down and going inside. By the time he came through the gap in their fence (easier than a gate, and the dogs could amble back and forth between the two houses as it pleased them) she'd returned with a cold glass for him.

"Fresh made," she said, and he gratefully took a long drink. He sighed. She'd added a decent slug of limoncello, and even though he couldn't get drunk, he appreciated the light burn of the alcohol in his throat. He set the swing to rocking gently and slouched down in his corner.  
"How was work?"

"Same as the day before, fortunately," he said, relaxing. "Do you know what Stark's ringtone is for me?"

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, eyes bright with laughter. "I can't begin to imagine."

"Back in the USSR." She laughed.

"Would you have preferred "Love Me Do?" He shuddered.

"How was your day?" he said, changing the subject quickly. "What class did you decide to take?" he asked; she'd been taking a class or two a semester, not to study for a diploma, just because the topics were interesting.

"I've got two, actually. A seminar on Middle East archaeology and a class on World War II. I have to write a term paper in that one, can I cite you as a source?" she teased him, and he grinned.

"I like the idea of being a primary source," he said complacently. "How was lunch with Pepper?"

"Good, although it looks like she's headed for a divorce." She shook her head. "Then she said it was time I started to date again and offered to set me up with a guy she knows."

Bucky bristled. "What did you tell her?"

"That I'm not opposed to the idea of dating again, but the last guys she set me up with were..." her voice trailed off and she shook her head. He brooded into his glass.

"Would you go out with me?" he said suddenly, still quite interested in his ice cubes.

"Any time," she said promptly. "Your bedroom or mine?"

He was so startled he almost dropped the glass from nerveless fingers. "What?"

"Well, dates are for getting to know you, right? We've been friends for a long time. I know you, you know me, and I haven't managed to scare you off yet. We've had innumerable dinners together, seen a bunch of movies, been to a few plays and musicals on Broadway, killed aliens and rounded up bad guys, gone to the museums, done stuff..." She brushed her foot along his thigh. "So the next step is the bedroom, isn't it? I don't want to waste any more time. I'm not getting any younger, you know." She set down her glass and in a flash was straddling his lap. "I want to get naked with you, Buck." The way she said his nickname made it sound dirty, in the best possible way. His dick was astounded by the turn the conversation had taken but couldn't be more approving. "Is that an advanced weapons system in your pocket or are you interested too?" she purred, brushing her lips over his and putting pressure on his most neglected body part. He threaded his fingers through her hair and took control of the kiss. She moaned when his tongue quested inside her mouth, and that was enough. He broke the kiss, picked her up, almost tripped over the carpet of dogs on the porch, but recovered and carried her up to her bedroom. 

He'd thought to be slow and careful with her, but it didn't work out like that. It was hot and primal and he felt possessive satisfaction when she came. He collapsed on her after he came, spent and shaking. Her legs loosened from his hips, but instead of falling away, they just slid down his, still cradling him between them. His metal arm didn't fatigue, and he thought to lever himself up a bit so he wasn't squashing her. She took advantage of this to roll him on his back and snuggled herself against him, resting her head on his shoulder and lightly stroking the metal arm with her fingers. His hands roamed her back, stroking her hair, his mind quiet and at peace. He reveled in the weight of her on him, that she was fine with his arm. Granted, she'd made it, but he'd still been a little worried. He didn't take a nap. For one thing, he didn't want to miss a moment of being with her. For another, he was still hard.... he shifted his hips slightly and felt her smile. "I love how you can go again so fast," she murmured, and sat up on him. He was fascinated by her and set to heightening her response to him as she started to move.

He was fatigued when he went into work the next day, but managed to keep his focus during training. Up in his office, he had just reset his ringtone for her to "Never Tear Us Apart," and was listening to it with a grin on his face when Peter knocked on the door. He set the phone down and gestured to the chair across his desk. "Hey, Bucky," Peter said. He was pleased that finally he'd conquered the need to say 'sir' or "Mr." before the name.

"Hey, Pete," Bucky said, looking at him curiously.

"Mom and I had lunch today after she was done in the lab, you know that emergency generator she and Tony are working on is giving her fits." He waited until Bucky nodded. "So she looks really good today, I noticed. Really happy. She's got that...sparkle back. Like life is interesting again, you know? So--I wasn't prying--I asked what was up that made her so perky." He shifted in his seat.

"What did she say?" Bucky asked casually, knowing that Emma had probably deviled the kid.

"Well, you." He cast his eyes to the ceiling. "I know she does it just for laughs..." he muttered, but at least he wasn't blushing about that anymore. "So I just wanted to come in and thank you. Took you long enough."

Bucky jerked, startled by the observation. "What?"

Peter heaved a sigh. "You've been... her paladin. Like a medieval knight. Courtly love. Pretty much since you met her. She's always liked you, but she's been gone on you for a while. She didn't want to push. In case there was something... Steve.... or you didn't feel the same."

"Well, that went both ways," Bucky murmured. Peter nodded.

"But Steve would have wanted both of you to be happy, more than anything. And you're good for her. You make her happy. She makes you laugh, which is great for the rest of us." He smirked. "And you deserve to be happy too."

"You're not worried for her?"

Peter met his eyes. "I'd bet you'd rather cut off your other arm than hurt her. But you wouldn't do that because then she'd want to make another arm and she's already halfway through the redesign of your arm. She's talking about adding some form of temperature control," he added, studying the ceiling. "Just so you know." Bucky laughed.

"It does get cold in the winter," he said austerely, nodding. "I certainly don't want my fingers to be too cold when I--"

Peter broke. "Oh, come on!" he said, covering his ears and flushing.

"--touch her face," Bucky said loudly. Peter uncurled. "Don't want her tongue to stick to my fingers."

Peter groaned and stood up. "Whatever, dude," he said, flapping his hand at Bucky. "Don't need details." He left quickly and Bucky started to laugh. He could see now why Emma liked to tease the kid. Then it struck him that Peter would be something like a stepson. He explored that, feeling pleased.

Then he shut his computer down and took the stairs down to the parking garage. He had some shopping to do. When he got home, he found Emma on the swing again, this time reading a textbook on archaeology in Iran and Iraq. He swiped her beverage; it was limeade, no booze, but still refreshing. He leaned in for a kiss, which she was happy to give, but when her hand moved up his thigh, he caught it deftly and kissed it.

"I'm going to think all you want me for is my body," he said briskly. He opened a sack and pulled out some containers of pansies, ready for planting but slightly squashed from the bag. "Pansies are for thoughts," he said, nipping her lower lip. "And I think about you a lot. I'll help you plant them. Pick a place where you'll see them a lot. Then let's get an early dinner. Gotta keep up my strength."

"I've got a pot in the garage," she said. "It'll be perfect here on the porch."

"I'll go get it," he volunteered, and brought around the heavy ceramic pot, still full of dirt. The pansies were quickly planted and she watered them in with the hose.

"Pretty," she said, putting her arm around his waist. "Thank you for thinking of me."

"You're welcome, doll," he said, then patted her butt. She smiled at him.

"I'll go get changed," she said. She came back downstairs in a pretty backless sundress with a full skirt and sandals, and they walked down to a restaurant with a patio and sat outside. After they gave their orders, she absently took his hand and held it as they discussed their days. He smiled as she described the newest hitch in the generator she was building. When the entrees arrived, she let go reluctantly. He took a small red box out of his pocked and placed it beside her forks. She looked a question at him, then opened it to see a pair of earrings, white mother of pearl shaped like orchids, with small diamonds at their hearts. Her mouth formed an "O".

"They're so lovely, Bucky," she murmured, and immediately put them in. "Do they look good?" she asked, turning to him and touching them, then his hand.

"Beautiful," he said, and enjoyed the thank-you kiss.

"God, get a room!" a couple of kids said as they passed by.

"I'm planning on it!" she said, grinning at them, and they retreated in disorder. Bucky laughed. He was pleased by the way she would occasionally touch them during their meal. They decided against dessert--she had homemade cookies at her house, which she promised to feed him at intervals. They held hands as they walked home. After she closed the door behind them, he was grateful for the full skirt of her dress as they didn't make it up the stairs right away. This night they did sleep off and on. He took his cookies to work. They rode in on his motorcycle together; she had class in the afternoon and would meet him at home. He preferred her house to his; it was cozy and welcoming and had her in it.

This quickly developed into a pattern. They'd meet at her house, have dinner there or at a restaurant (Bucky liked going out so he could be seen in public with her), and then spend the night in bed. He asked her one night if she was happy.

"Yes," she answered simply. "You make me so happy. You've given light back into my life." She kissed him, and quickly she was ready for him.

"Wait," he said rolling to the side as he remembered. "Hold that thought," he said, smirking at her when she moaned. "Where did I leave my pants?" A little exploration and he found them, then he crawled back on the bed. "Ok, doll, would you sit up for a minute?"

He'd engaged her curiosity, and she quickly sat up, kneeling with her butt on her heels. She looked at him patiently. "What is it, Bucky?"

He swallowed. "I love you, Emma. With all my heart. You fill my soul." He held out his hand, a circle of platinum with a grass-green diamond in the solitaire setting. "Will you marry me?"

She smiled and nodded as her eyes flooded. She held out her hand, trembling, and he slid it on her finger. "And just so you know, I'm not in the battle plans for the next invasion attempt," he said quietly, holding her hand. "We finished them this afternoon. I'll be in the armory, putting together resupply packages for the front-line heroes."

"I'd have understood if you were on the line," she said quietly, cupping his face in her hands. "But I'm glad you're not."

"It wasn't easy to arrange, but I want to spend a long life with you. I want there to be love and laughter, a lot of quiet, a lot of... you. In and out of bed. I can't tell you how much it means to me that you touch me, that you want me, and that you're not embarrassed to be seen with me."

"Sweetie," she said, shuffling close to him. "Who doesn't want to be seen in public with you? Because I will go kick their ass. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard of. Unless you're sneaking around, in which case, I will kick your ass."

"No sneaking, Emma, ever," he said.

"Well, I didn't think you would, but for heaven's sake. You're a fine man, Bucky Barnes, and I'm proud to be with you." She cradled his metal hand and kissed the palm. He smiled at her indignation, warmth filling his soul, and traced the curve of her lip. She grinned and kissed the finger. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her.

Afterward, as they cuddled together, he asked, "When do you want to get the license?"

She looked over his shoulder at the alarm clock, kissing the metal absently. "As soon as they open up later today." He grinned, a little dizzy at the speed she moved but relieved that she wanted this as much as he did.

"Wedding the day after?"

"Absolutely."

"Peter for the witness?"

"Yep."

"I'll talk to him tomorrow at the tower. Tell him that you want to have lunch with him, share some news." she beamed at him.

"Can you take a couple of days off?" she asked, snuggling tighter. "I'll cut class. Tony can live a couple days without working on the generator. It's not like he doesn't have other projects."

The next morning she was reluctant to take off her ring. "It's so beautiful," she said, studying its sparkle. "So unexpected. Just like you." He puffed up a little at the praise. She threaded it on a long chain and tucked it into her bra. The marriage license was in her purse, and they parted to go to work.

The next morning, she dressed in a full fluffy skirt with a close-fitting jacket in polished raspberry cotton, put up her hair and did her makeup, grateful the ceremony would be before it got hot. She slid her feet into pumps, straightened the ring on her finger, and picked up her purse. "Ok, I'm off," she said to Sigurd and Torburn, who waved their tails and sent congratulations. Sigurd also indicated that they'd spend the night at the other house. She laughed and went out to the Uber. At City Hall, she swept up to Bucky and Peter, sitting on a bench. Peter looked a little bewildered. "Thanks for coming, honey," she told him. Bucky stood up and she took his arm. The clerk called their names. "We're getting married, and we want you to be our witness." Before he could really process this, she tugged them into the judge's chambers. Peter was still a little stunned as the short ceremony was conducted and they exchanged plain polished wedding bands.

Afterward, he enveloped Emma in a tight hug and did a handclasp/hug thing with Bucky. "So you do still want to go to lunch, right?" he asked. It was too early for lunch, so they had brunch at Buvette to celebrate and Peter admired the ring. "I didn't know diamonds even came in colors," he said. "This is so pretty." He checked his phone. "MJ says congrats and she wants a picture of your ring, Mom." He snapped a picture. Afterward, he went back to campus and they went home. Both of them took a few minutes to email Tony that they would not be in for a couple days because they'd just been married. Bucky emailed the Avengers that he was taking a few days off but that this was not an opportunity to slack off.

When he went back to work, the news had spread. Natasha was tight-lipped when he encountered her, but Clint grinned and congratulated him. Tony clipped out, "Marry in haste, repent at leisure," to which Bucky rolled his eyes and waved him off. There was an op and several of the Avengers were away, but those who remained looked like they didn't know if they should be glad or sorry for him. Eavesdropping, he heard them talking about Emma's occasional hot temper and his own dark reputation. He smiled when he heard Peter nonchalantly dispelling the legends that he and Emma apparently had, and went back to work. He smiled more that day than he had in years and cheerfully kicked Captain Marvel's ass in hand-to-hand. He went back up to his office and noticed a folded piece of paper on the desk. Inside was a pressed pansy, one of the dark purple ones he liked best. There was a heart drawn on the paper. He smiled and checked the time. Three hours, thirty-nine minutes until he could go home to his wife.


	5. Arrivals

Steve stood up, rubbing his chest. That had quite hurt, but he was pleased to see there was no damage from the Kree weapon. The new tac fabrics the hard-working scientists had developed were really effective. He turned around to pick up his shield just in time to see Emma running toward him. He raised his hand and started to speak to her, but he couldn't hear his voice. Then he noticed her stopping abruptly, beside...him? Wait, what? He took a second look and wanted to throw up. His head was mostly gone, along with a significant portion of his chest. He patted his face frantically, but everything was still there, he could feel it. He reached out to wipe blood off his wife's face, but he couldn't touch her. She took an absent swipe at her face and he almost fell to his knees at the shock and pain and grief on her face. She bent and picked up his shield, the one she had formed for his protection and defense, and gently placed it over what was left of his head and chest. He could see her speaking; she must be announcing this on the com. She turned and started firing again. He watched in disbelief as Bucky ran up, going to his knees. His hand reached out, then fell away without touching his fallen friend. Tony, Sam, and Jim landed. He couldn't hear what anybody was saying. Peter stumbled up, and he thought she was telling her son to--what? be careful? He lifted his hand ineffectually as he saw a Kree sighting on Peter, but Emma was on top of it; she blew it away. She finally smacked Tony's suit with the butt of her rifle--wait, where had she gotten that? She used pistols--somebody was putting his body on a stretcher--and the fliers, shock and horror and grief on their faces, took off. Peter stumbled a few steps and put up some webbing. Emma stayed over Bucky protectively, firing precisely. He couldn't be more proud of her, putting aside her own feelings to get the job done, to defend someone who couldn't do it for himself, just then. 

There was a touch on his arm, and he looked to the side to see a woman in battle armor and a blood-red cloak, an enormous sheathed sword on her back, a winged horse by her side. She seemed strangely bright and it was difficult for Steve to look at her too closely. "I am Brynhildr," she said, speaking quietly, watching the battle before them. "I am a chooser of the slain. Odin has sent me to bring you to Valhalla, where you will bide until Ragnarok, where you will fight at his side."

He kept his eyes on his wife, keeping the prostrate Bucky safe. "I want to stay."

"Yet you cannot," the Valkyrie's voice was gentle but firm. "Your body will not support your life. If you stay, you will only fade away."

"I don't want to leave them."

"Whether you come with me or not, you have already left them," Brynhildr said sternly. "If you come with me, you have only to wait."

Steve turned his head and looked at her, eyes watering at the strength of the brightness around her. "Yes," she said, with a peal of laughter. "Odin is waiting for them as well. They will also be given the choice." Her face hardened. "Odin has instructed us that we may not arrange matters to our satisfaction. We must wait for them to fall in their own time."

"Wait, what?" Steve didn't understand.

"We serve Lord Odin, bringing his favorites to Valhalla when they fall," she said impatiently. "Sometimes we choose the slain, arranging for them to die in glorious battle so that their names will go down the ages in sagas for all to remember. Yet Odin has forbidden it in regard to those two," she said resentfully.

"How do you do that?" he asked, not quite sure if he wanted to know.

Her smile turned cruel. "Magic, you Midgardians would say. We have a loom, by which we weave the tragic destinies of those who would be heroes. We use intestines for thread, skulls for weights, and a spear to beat the weaving smooth as we chant to summon the magic and affect the fates of all. Odin requires the best and the bravest for the coming battle of Ragnarok, and this is not the work of a day, a year, or even of an age. So come now, and await your reunion. I have not all day to wait while you gaze upon your beloved with sad eyes. Join the Einherjar. " She sighed. "Time flows differently in Valhalla," she said more gently. "It will pass gently enough."

Steve's fingers reached once more to Emma, then fell to his side as he turned. Brynhildr leaped to the back of the winged horse and leaned down, extending her arm. He swung up behind her as the horse pranced, and a weight on his forearm made him look down. His shield was back. "It is your signature weapon," she said briskly. "How can you fight without it? While it remains in the world, physically, its essence passes with you." She clucked to the horse, who tapped the earth with its hoof, then sprung up into the air. 

The horse set down outside a great hall, roofed in spears and arrows. "Behold the heroes of Valhalla," Brynhildr said proudly. "Each day they battle, so that when Ragnarok occurs, the army of Odin will be ready." Steve's heart sank a bit. An eternity of fighting. Yay. Still, for the possibility of seeing Emma and Bucky again... A figure appeared at the top of the stairs and descended toward them. The Valkyrie saluted Odin. He nodded to her and appraised Steve.

"Well met, warrior," he said crisply, and gestured to the Valkyrie, who shimmered in form to a stately, regal woman who stepped to his side. "Be known to my wife Frigga, most glorious of the asynjur, and welcome to my hall."

"Before you accept his warm welcome," Frigga said smoothly, laughter in her voice, "I would present to you an alternative that may be more to your liking. Join me in Folkvangr." Odin scowled. "Yes, where battle scythes the worthy, I reap half the warriors," she said with emphasis. "You have another possibility, Steven, son of Joseph. An alternative to Valhalla, where worthy warriors are welcomed. There is the eternal combat of the Hjaoningavig, for those who miss the press of battle, but participation is not a requirement for those who dwell in my hall, Sessrumnir."

"You know I desire him and his companions for Valhalla, o wife," Odin snapped at her.

"So that you may have a strong host to command at Ragnarok, when it comes," Frigga said, unruffled by his ire. "Yet daily combat over the ages is not to the liking of all." She studied her spouse and sighed. "When Ragnarok comes, long may it be delayed, I will allow those of my heroes who wish it to join your army. Does this not please you, my lord?"

Odin grouched. "Well," he muttered. "But I will be deprived of his company, and also that of his companions."

Frigga laughed, a silvery peal of mirth. "I see how it is! You wish to visit your favorite! Have no fear, for are you not allowed in my domain at your pleasure? The Valkyries will be summoned for the great companions, and they will be allowed their choice as well. And when they have made their choice, you may visit as your whim allows, drink mead and speak of battles with the men and inquire as to the latest products of her imagination," she said, taking a dainty poke at her husband. "A scholar and artisan as much as a warrior, you must concede that she is more fitted for a place in my realm," she said, cajoling him. "They may have passage to Valhalla as it pleases you to show them off, but they may reside with me, in peace."

There was some huffing and muttering, but when Odin finally wound down, Steve bowed to Frigga (it seemed the thing to do) and accepted her invitation. The thought of being allowed to rest his shield was too tempting to ignore, and he knew that Bucky and Emma would follow him where he went; he felt that his wife and his friend were equally tired of suffering and killing, and he didn't want Emma to have to endure Valhalla. He was sure it was bound to be sexist and violent, and he wanted more for her. She smiled at him. "I look forward to hearing of my sons from you, hero," she said, and summoned a handmaiden to show him the way.

*****

Frigga summoned him. His heart lifted, and he took a moment to put on his costume, the essence of his character that had followed him to Folkvangr, swinging his shield over his back as he hurried to the hall called Sessrumnir, a fine, light building. He sank down in his usual seat, a few seats from the goddess' right hand, but was too tense to sit quietly. This had to be big. She never just sent for him out of the blue. He hoped that it was time for someone to have made a choice. Please, not Stark, though. He was hoping for some time with his dearest before he showed up.

He sprang to his feet when he heard voices on the stair, but forced himself to stand at parade rest until Frigga and her attendants entered, sweeping a man in black before them. His arm seemed to shift from metal to flesh. He was so busy looking around that he nearly missed seeing his friend. It wasn't until he tripped on the edge of a rug that he looked ahead. At a smile from Frigga, Steve walked quickly to catch Bucky in a bear hug. Frigga, still smiling, dismissed them, and they left the hall to go lay on a hillside in the field.

Steve sat back up to remove his shield and toss it to the side before stretching out under the warm sun, hands behind his head. "How long's it been, Buck?" he asked.

"Almost forty years," Bucky said. "This is really nice. I thought I was going to hell, so this was a very pleasant surprise."

"Buck, you're a good person. You were never going to go to hell," Steve said in affectionate exasperation. "But you're right, it's a nice surprise. I didn't think that this was an option for Earth people, but Odin offered Valhalla and the chance to see you and Emma again. I was going to accept, but Frigga made me a better offer."

"What do you do all day here?" Bucky asked.

"Well there's a battle between between an overprotective father and the guy who stole his daughter away. The hot-headed dad went to war with the husband, and at night the daughter brought to life everybody who'd died in the battle. So naturally, immediately a cycle was born. I tried it once. Don't recommend it. It felt weird."

"What else is there to do?"

"Oh, there's combat, which I do take part in, it's just not to the death. Frigga basically made a deal that if he didn't fuss about me choosing this afterlife she'd make all her warriors available to him at Ragnarok, so it's wise not to get too out of practice. But there are a lot of other things to do as well; Odin took me to Valhalla and it's basically a bunch of guys sitting around killing each other during the day, coming back to life, and drinking all night. What Emma would call a real sausage fest." They laughed. "They have the big name smiths over there, like Wayland, who doesn't believe that a woman could do any work worth mentioning, but there are artistic people over here, who create more than weapons. And there's women."

"Sex in the afterlife? This might not be so bad," Bucky commented. Steve laughed.

"I got laid a couple times," he said, "they're nice women, very enthusiastic, it was fine. But nothing's changed since I was alive. It's just exercise with my dick as a focus unless I feel something for the woman. And there's been nobody who can touch Emma."

Bucky was silent. "I married her," he said simply.

"Odin said," Steve said, nodding. "I was glad to hear it. I wanted both of you to be happy."

"You don't...have a problem with it?"

"No. I mean, yeah, I personally would have preferred to be with her, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't. And the two of you were probably great together too. We'll have to work something out when she gets here." Steve let his friend think about that. "How has she been?" His tone altered with longing.

"Well, up until... a while ago, she was fine. She didn't have a mental decline, which was a huge relief, especially to her." Steve nodded. "Kept her temper, too." Bucky laughed. "She finally retired from everything about six years ago. Kept generations of Avengers on their toes and at least slightly afraid of breaking her stuff at all times." He entertained his friend with stories about Emma, Peter, his wife and daughter, Stark, Thor and Loki as the light softened into twilight.

"Is this a boy's only hillside, or can a gal join too?" a bright voice asked, and both of them twisted until they could see the speaker. She was maybe in her mid-thirties, with thick streaks of silver in her abundant dark hair, her skin looking oddly thin and translucent. She smiled at them and in an instant, Steve was off the ground, plastering her to him in a hug. Bucky climbed to his feet more leisurely, and joined them in a three-way hug. When Steve kissed her, passionately, he stepped back. He didn't actually mind knowing that Steve was going to claim her affections too; almost forty years of marriage had assured him of her feelings, but he wasn't into watching. He planned on giving them time to catch up. After all, they'd had sex at least twice a week throughout the duration of their relationship, tapering off only toward the end. And at the beginning, it had been almost nightly, so yeah, he could afford to be generous, he thought complacently. But he kissed her enthusiastically when it was his turn.

"Didn't expect to see you so soon, doll," Bucky said, examining her face.

"Didn't see much point in sticking around with both of you gone, angel," she said, smiling. He smiled back and rested his forehead against hers. 

Their reunion was interrupted by one of Frigga's handmaidens, summoning them to dine. Emma was seated at the right hand of the goddess, Steve and Bucky on her other side, and they were introduced to the company. As the meal was served, Emma leaned over and said to Steve and Bucky, "Odin's been telling people you're in Valhalla. Apparently there's some sort of free-exchange treaty between the two afterlifes, so he's stretching the truth a bit."

Frigga laughed, and they turned toward her respectfully. "He was so counting on having you join his army," she said affectionately. "He does hate losing, even to me. Well, in the end, all will know the truth." Then Frigga monopolized Emma's attention, asking questions about her life and skills all through the dinner. Afterward, there was music for dancing, but Bucky wanted to adjust to his new reality, and Steve was eager to reacquaint himself with Emma, so they departed discreetly.

After their initial explosive encounter, Steve carefully rolled them over so that he could keep touching her, playing with her hair. "I've never seen you with dark hair," he said. She took a lock of it and tickled his nose with it, and he laughed with the joy of being teased once again.

"I look like I did when I was in my early thirties, before the accident," she said, kissing his chest and snuggling in to listen to his heartbeat contentedly. "I'm really pleased, overall, this was the time in my life where I liked how I looked the most."

He stroked the skin at the corner of her eye gently. "I like how you still have expression lines here from smiling. And your skin is so different."

"I didn't realize how much the condition changed the look of it," she admitted. "But apparently, it's the appearance that's changed, not the reality of it. Or what passes for reality here. It's kind of confusing to think about that because I know I'm dead and this is the afterlife, so it seems weird to refer to it as reality, but it is..." she halted and drew a deep breath. "At any rate, Frigga assured me that I was still fireproof and puncture proof and that I had all the abilities that I had at my death, just in a younger-looking package. Fortunately, because I broke my femur last year and I've had to use a freaking walker the past seven months. So irritating."

"How old were you?" Steve asked idly. "Bucky said it had been around forty years since I died. Time seems different here. It doesn't feel like it's been that long."

"I was 95," she said with satisfaction. "Just past my birthday. You do know that Bucky and I married, right?" she asked, and he nodded.

"I was glad that you chose him," he assured her. "I wanted both of you to be happy, and preferentially together. We talked about it a bit. We'll work something out between us, because I don't think you'd want to give either of us up."

"You're right about that," she said, squeezing her muscles around him. He groaned and she sat up with a devilish look on her face. "I love Bucky too, but neither of you is interchangeable with the other. I want you both to be happy, and if it means that I have to sleep with both of you, I guess that's a price I'll just have to pay." He laughed as she started to move on him, drinking her in in wonder. She was still lovely in this younger form, still his sweetheart. But her skin was different, she seemed to be able to feel his touches more. And it was so beautiful, flawless to his eyes.

"Oh, Steve, I missed you," she murmured after.

"Now I feel like I can really start enjoying myself," he said. "Together again with you and Buck. I wondered sometimes if maybe you'd choose somebody different. Maybe Stark."

"Ew," she said immediately. "No, I never trusted him enough to try. He and Con were together for another couple years after you died," she shuddered and he felt her skin actually crawl. "But after that broke up, he never had another relationship. Company when he wanted, sure, but not a relationship." They talked about others, catching up on decades of gossip, with special emphasis on Peter and his family, one of her favorite topics. 

The next morning after breakfast, the three of them relaxed in a pile under a tree. Emma's skin was so fair, neither of the men wanted to risk her getting a sunburn, if such a thing was possible in Folkvangr. Frigga came upon them. "Emma, if you have a moment..." She extricated herself from her men and stood. "I have some thoughts," the goddess said. "The Captain has said you enjoyed gardening. I feel that my hall is too plain. Perhaps you could improve the... what do you call it? The landscape. And this way is a forge for you, I had it modeled on your memories of a structure you had in the state of Washington..." Her voice trailed away as the goddess, arm linked with Emma, towed her off in a new direction.

The men looked at each other and started to laugh. They tapered off when Odin stomped up to them, asking if they knew the whereabouts of Frigga.

"She's showing Emma her new forge," Steve said politely.

"Curses!" Odin sputtered. "I'd hoped to entice her to Valhalla with a forge of her own... Which way did they go?" he barked, and Bucky pointed. He arrowed off.

"Odin's not used to not getting his own way," Bucky observed. "It'll be interesting to see him adjust his thinking." Steve grinned.

"The irresistible force is about to meet the immovable object again," he said. "If Stark couldn't get her to bend, Odin has no chance. Maybe we should find out where Frigga wants those gardens," he suggested. Bucky's eyes lit.

"We should offer to help," he said demurely, and offered his friend a hand up. The afterlife was starting to look a lot more lively.


	6. Knock first

Peter made the trek to Brooklyn; he needed his mom's advice. He could have gone to his aunt, but she'd accepted a job up in Boston and he had class later on. He still marveled at his luck; between Emma and Tony Stark, he had close to a million dollars for his education and could have flown up and back easily, but it seemed like a misuse of his funds, and the money he was making at his job went right into a savings account. And Emma should be around her house; she didn't have class that day and her husband was out of town. He relished the time he could get with just her.

He unlocked the back door and walked into the kitchen, about to call out, but he heard a thud. And she laughed. He relaxed; she probably tripped over Torburn, who had a bad habit of laying down behind her in order to get ear skritches when she turned around, but sometimes it backfired. He raided the cookie jar, squinting at the cookie to make sure it was chocolate chips, not raisins. She swore that raisins were good, but he just didn't like them. She'd fooled him once by using chocolate-covered raisins, so he'd learned never just to bite in without examination.

She groaned, and his head snapped up. "Oh, angel," she said.

"Why do you call me that?" a low, rough voice said. "You know what I've done. I'm more damnation than salvation."

She snorted. "When you're balls-deep in me, I swear I can see heaven," she said bawdily. "I missed you so much."

"It was three days, doll."

"I know. Forever. Now shut up and show me that you missed me too."

"Always, Emma," he said softly. Now he could hear squelchy sounds. Oh, god. The lid to the cookie jar fell out of his hand and the sound of movement stopped dead. Emma came charging through the door, and Peter took one look at her and squeezed his eyes shut, slapping his hands over his eyes just for good measure.

"Sorry, sorry," he called out, hunching. He could hear the rustle of fabric. And a zipper. He cringed.

"It's ok, kid," Bucky said, resigned, and with effort, Peter peeled his hands off his face. His mom had her bra fastened and her blouse buttoned and her skirt hem was uniformly around her knees again. He darted a quick glance at Bucky, who was all zipped up and leaning against the door casing with his arms folded.

"Ok, Pete, what's wrong?" she said. Her gaze fell on the cookie he clutched. "Milk? Those are oatmeal chocolate chip, I know your vendetta against dried grapes." She got down glasses and nudged him over to the table.

Bucky sat down silently. Emma plated cookies absently and herded him over to the table.

"Sorry," he said, mortified.

"You might want to knock first," Bucky said, dipping a crisp cookie into his glass and a blissful look spread across his face.

"I thought you guys were still on a mission," he whispered.

"We were efficient," Bucky said.

"Pete." His mom spoke with authority. "Are you ok? I know there's a virus going around campus," she said, and automatically put her hand on his forehead. "I checked it out and it's natural, but you never know..."

"I'm ok, mom," he said reassuringly. He broke a cookie in half. "It's about MJ."

"Have you started sleeping with her yet?" she asked cheerfully. "You've been dating for quite awhile now." She frowned. "Oh, Peter, you haven't gotten her pregnant, have you? I get you condoms to cut down on that risk. Have you checked the expiration dates on them?" she asked anxiously.

"No!" he said hastily, and she relaxed a little.

"Somebody's had the talk with you, right?" Bucky asked, frowning.

"May covered the basics," he said, almost whispering. "Steve...filled in the blanks." To his surprise, Bucky chortled. Emma was grinning.

"What did he tell you?" Bucky said, wiping his eyes.

Peter thought he was going to die from mortification. "Recapped the basics," he whispered. "Then he provided...embellishments. There were sketches to illustrate. And he gave me a reading list." Emma guffawed. "There was a lot about technique." Bucky grinned and his laughs mingled with his wife's.

"He was just trying to be helpful, honey," she said through her laughter. "He was hoping to help you shortcut the learning curve a bit." She got out a few more belly laughs. "God bless him, but for such a coordinated man, he was certainly clumsy in bed to begin with."

"...Uh..." Peter said. This was something he really didn't need to know about his idol.

"Doll," Bucky said, and took her hand. She glowed at him. "So what's going on, kid?" he asked.

"Well, we slept together Saturday night," he said, fidgeting with his cookie. "And she's on the pill, so we had two forms of birth control," he assured her quickly, and Emma nodded approvingly. "And I thought it went really well, all things considered, but after a bit she got up and went home," he said, still puzzled. "And she won't really talk to me. Harry's out of town, and I thought we'd spend more time together." His voice was wistful.

"Huh." His mother looked mystified, all teasing aside. "It's difficult to say without talking to her." Peter drooped. Bucky asked questions, a skillful interrogation. There'd been a date; they'd gone out to dinner and an art gallery--she'd expressed interest in the artist. Then they'd gone back to his room, his roommate out of town for the weekend, and he'd asked, and she'd said yes. Then Emma's phone rang; she looked at it with annoyance and rejected the call. It rang again.

"Answer it, doll," Bucky told her, smiling faintly. "You know he's unrelenting."

She got up and clicked it on as she left the room. Pete did not look at the wet spot on the back of her skirt. "Yes, Tony, what do you want? I'm in the middle of something--"

"Ok, kid, the sex was fine?" Bucky asked, quickly. "You made sure she came, right?"

"Yeah," Peter said, nodding. Steve's talk (and the books he'd gotten Peter) had given him a good idea about how to proceed. Then he described the aftermath. This was actually a lot easier than he'd thought it would be. A guy's perspective was good to have.

"Ok, you never want to just roll off and go to sleep," Bucky said quickly. "I get that it was your first time, let her know that, it'll help. Next time, cuddle her. Ask how it was for her, make sure she's satisfied." He paused, and they could hear Emma, irritation in her voice. Bucky smiled and shook his head. "Stark's getting in her bad graces again. Dumbass. And one thing more you might want to consider is that your MJ might be feeling vulnerable now. If it wasn't her first time too, she might be worried what you think of her. Or now that you've had her, you might be done with her." He held up his hands. "Sure she knows you pretty well, but sex amps up both the intimacy and the insecurities. Girls these days seem to have a lot of mixed messages."

"But don't women like sex too?" Peter asked, confused. "Mom does." He forgot to blush.

Bucky smirked. "Kid, you can't judge other women by your mom's standard. Emma's really uninhibited. Part of it's because she doesn't think sex is a moral thing, but she also just really likes it, and if you're lucky, your woman will match your libido too. There's really nothing like having a woman who always wants you." A soft expression illuminated his face. "You haven't been watching too much porn, have you?"

Pete sat upright. "No!" he exclaimed immediately, then wilted a little. "Not much."

"Just remember, porn isn't a model for real-life sex," Bucky advised. They looked at the doorway; the volume of the conversation had risen. "Sure, sometimes you'll just want to go at it like animals, really fucking, but other times you want to be gentle and romantic, where you're so tight together that you can barely move. Check the mood before you go on, because sometimes she's going to want it romantic, and other times, there's nothing as good as showing how passionate you are about her." He gave other tips quickly, including how to approach MJ, thoughts about how to reveal his side gig as a superhero, and wound up just as Emma came through the door again and sat down, slapping the phone on the table.

"He has no off switch," she said in exasperation, but there was a touch of affection in her tone. She looked between them, and a small smile curved her lips. "So do you want me to call MJ?" she asked her son.

"No!" he said. OMG, having his mother call his girlfriend... it didn't bear thinking about.

"Thought I'd offer," she said, holding up her hands. "But if she'd like to talk, I'm available," she instructed him.

"I think we've got it straightened out," Bucky said.

"Ok, that's good," she said briskly. "Finish your milk, and I'll give you a couple cookies to take with you. Come on, honey," she encouraged him. "I love you, but if you've got some guidance, it's time to hit the road. I haven't seen my husband for a few days, and I'm desperate to get laid myself." Peter choked on the milk, but drank it quickly as she wrapped the remaining cookies in a napkin. 

She gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, urging him toward the door.

"Thanks," he said shyly to Bucky, who smiled and ruffled his hair. He darted in for a quick hug, missing the astonishment on Bucky's face, then retreated again. "Thanks, Dad," he mumbled, and hit the door.


	7. The price

MJ sent May to the dining room with the dish of green bean casserole, and looked around, smiling at her mother-in-law. "I think that's it," she said, wiping her hands on a towel.  
"Peter will carve the ham at the table."

"Is May feeling ok, honey?" Emma asked. "She seems a little...I don't know."

"She said she's fine, I asked if she was having trouble anywhere," MJ said, then sighed. "I think it's just being 16. She misses May since she moved up to Boston, and I don't think she quite buys the story that it's just for the job. She loves New York." She fidgeted with the towel. "I feel sorry for Peter that she took the news of him being Spiderman so poorly." She whispered that last.

"She called me up a few days after the big reveal and really blasted me," Emma said ruefully. "But honestly, I tried to get him to stop, and when he wouldn't, I tried to keep an eye out for him." MJ patted her shoulder.

"I know it's a shock, I remember when Pete told me," she said sympathetically, "but her rejection really hurt him."

"We can hope that she'll reconcile herself with a little time," Emma said. "Let's keep that door open and--" Whatever else she was about to say was cut off by delighted laughter and the crash of glass. Emma and MJ ran out of the kitchen, following the sounds, into the dining room. Emma crashed into MJ, who had stopped dead in the doorway, and Peter and Tony crashed into her. Bucky avoided the pileup and waited patiently for a resolution.

"May!" MJ gasped in shock.

"Merry May Parker!" Emma barked, gently moving MJ to the side and entering the room. "Your mother has worked hard on the preparations for this celebration! Come down now!"

The men crowed into the room to see May sailing the length of the table, accidentally bumping the ham off the platter onto the tablecloth and laying waste to another swath of glassware. She let go of a strand of webbing and clung to the wall. "May!" Emma said commandingly, pointing to a spot on the floor. The teen grimaced, but released her hands and pushed off, only to roll down and smack the wall face first as her leg stayed firmly attached. Bucky pushed through and held the girl upright.

"Grr! I can't get it to let go!" Emma and Tony came to look; Peter and MJ clung to each other in shock.

Emma spun down her vision and took a look. "She's got those grippy little hairs like spiders have, whatdoyoucallthem, setules. Each hair has tiny hairs. These ones seem...extra-grippy."

"What?" May said, bewildered. "But I shaved my legs today!" Emma smiled at her. "These are different," she said.

"Ok, well, let's see if we can't break the hold mechanically," Tony said, and took a napkin to pass between the leg and the wall. May fell off, caught by her grandpa.

"Where'd you get the webbing, punkin?" Bucky said, setting her down and looking at her wrists. "You taking a page out of Spiderman's book and making webshooters?"

The girl looked a little shifty. "Noooo..." she said, clasping her hands behind her back.

"May," Emma said in a no-nonsense voice. May heaved a great, dramatic, teenager sigh and extended her arm. "There's a little bump here, but--" her head jerked back in surprise as white webbing shot out from the bump.

"What the hell?" Tony said, walking over and touching it. "Emma?" She examined the end while he started to play with the webbing. May fidgeted and everybody was silent as Emma removed a small pad of paper and a miniature pen from Tony's inside suitcoat pocket and began to diagram the structures she saw. It took four of the little pages, put together as a square, to contain the structure.

"Long-chain polymer," she said to Tony, patting the pocket once she put the pen and pad back in. "Biochemically produced, a natural webbing." Peter rubbed his face with both hands.

"How long have you known you could do this, May?" her mother asked quietly.

"Couple weeks," she said nervously.

"And why didn't you say anything?" May glanced at her dad, who was impossible to read at that moment.

"Cuz," She whispered. "Now I can be a superhero. I was going to talk to Uncle Tony about it." Tony squinched his eyes shut and rubbed them.

MJ drew breath. "OK," Emma said, clapping her hands. "Let's take some time to contemplate this and get used to the idea before the freak-out begins. There's lots to be said, but we should have cool heads. May. You go clean up those glasses you broke. There's water everywhere, but fortunately the wine hasn't been poured yet." Tony went into the kitchen and came back with a dustpan and whisk to help May. Emma stabbed the ham with the carving knife and got it back on the platter, patting the tablecloth as clean as possible with a napkin. Bucky went into the kitchen and returned with wine in two juice glasses, which he gave to the shocked parents. Emma came back with more every-day glasses to replace the fine crystal, and Bucky poured wine for all the adults as well as filling glasses with water for all. When the table was as restored as possible, she tugged on MJ's arm. "Come on, honey, have a seat." MJ allowed herself to be guided to the head of the table, and Peter went to the foot mechanically. Bucky patted his shoulder sympathetically and quickly and efficiently carved the ham. Tony sat by MJ and Emma settled in between him and Peter; across the table, May sat mutely by her father and Bucky between her and MJ.

"Well, things haven't gone quite to plan, but I'm still grateful to be celebrating Christmas with family," Bucky said, raising his glass. "And thanks to MJ for working so hard on the dinner." Emma held up her glass and kicked Tony's ankle and patted Peter's foot with hers. On the other side of the table, Bucky was more gentle, touching MJ's hand and nudging his granddaughter.

"Merry Christmas, everybody," Tony seconded, and they touched glasses with their neighbors, sturdy clinks instead of the delicate chime of crystal.

"Would you pass the ham, dear," Emma asked May politely, and the teen started.

"Sorry, Grandma," she said, and picked up the platter, offering it to her father first before turning to her granddad. That broke the ice and everyone started serving themselves from the dishes near to them, and conversation started up. It was very general, about work and school and May's clubs and after-school activities. Then the men took care of the cleanup, and Emma seated MJ in a chair in the living room before pouring her a brisk slug of whiskey, and one for herself. She offered May a taste, and May's nose wrinkled.

"Yuck," she said succinctly.

"It's an acquired taste," MJ said, knocking hers back. "You might not want to, and if you do, I strongly encourage you to wait to do it legally." Emma patted her hand, and eyed the stereo meaningfully. May got the hint and pulled up a Christmas playlist. It was mostly silent until the men rejoined them. Tony poured whiskey for himself and Peter; Bucky declined, not being a big drinker. Seating being a little tight, Emma joined her husband, curling up on his lap. Tony rolled his eyes.

"What?" May defended them. "I think it's cute. I hope that I'm like that when I'm their age."

"Older than dirt, and sixty-something?" Tony cracked.

"Cute," Peter muttered into his glass. "It's not so cute when you see your parents going at it like... otters."

"Otters?" Emma said, and she and Bucky burst out laughing. Sigurd made amused sounds.

"Dad, I think you mean bunnies. Or maybe minks. I've never heard that otters have sex a lot."

"Oh, god, can we not talk about it?" Peter moaned. "I'm scarred for life as it is."

"We can talk about May's unexpected abilities instead," Emma said silkily. That got everybody's attention focused. "So, you've known for a couple of weeks, May. What were you planning on doing with your new and exciting abilities?"

"I was going to practice some, then go to Uncle Tony and ask if I could join the Avengers," she said defiantly.

"You are only sixteen years old, young lady!" her mother said sternly.

"Mom--"

"Have you thought about what being a hero entails, May?" Emma asked. "Not the public appearances or the action figures or the Make-A-Wish functions, the apartment in Avengers Tower and the privileges. It is hard and dirty and vicious work. A lot of heroes have to go to therapy for the PTSD and anxiety and depression that they're prone to from what they see. It hurts physically, too. A lot of heroes retire prematurely because some villain's weapon took out a chunk, and I can't make prosthetics for every injury." She kissed her husband's metal hand. "The day-to-day bruising, and cuts, and the hospital stays for the more severe injuries. And that happens regularly. Women and some men will come up to you and offer help to get you out of domestic violence, and if you've got a secret identity, you can't even say what really happened. There's isolation from other people. They can't really understand what's involved, so if you want a relationship, mostly--but not always--you have to look in the hero community." She drew a deep breath. "The shit you see, dear, never leaves you. Not really. What he was made to do haunts your grandpa still. Tony still has nightmares about the Chitauri invasion and feelings of inadequacy because we simply could never save everybody. My worst moments include seeing Steve torn apart by the huge rounds that the Kree used. Sprayed me with blood. I can still taste it, sometimes. And I almost died on a killing ground for some alien's amusement.So think long and hard about this path," she warned, twisting her wedding ring.

"Yeah, about the Avengers," Tony said, swirling his glass. "We don't take minors. I did once, and I caught hell for it, rightly," he said, nodding. "So it's not even on the table until you're of age. And even then, it's not automatic. These days, I'm not accepting anybody without at least college or vocational training. It's not just about the fighting, it's also about what we do off the field. You want to major in business, last you said. And that's a skill we could really use, but but you have to learn the things first. And after college, I'd say that I'll put you on the team, if you go to grad school, get an MBA."

"Don't you dare put her on Promotions, Tony," Emma said threateningly. He smirked at her.

"And if you do join, I'll be responsible for your weapons training," Bucky said. "Everybody has to have at least two, ones that they can use the most effectively. I won't be your grandpa then."

"He's the Winter Soldier when he's training, and that was the scariest thing I ever encountered," Emma said, shivering. "But he trained me hard so that I could survive out in the field. Never forget that at his peak, he was the best in the entire world at what he did. He's still better than 80% of the heroes out there today."

"I don't have to join the Avengers," May said defiantly, tossing her hair. "I could be a street-level hero."

"Where have I heard that before," Emma muttered. "Dear, you're not thinking it quite through. For street-level heroes, there's additional hazards that you don't get in the Avengers. Just last year, a female hero was overpowered in LA and gang raped. And she's not the only one. Being part of a team also ensures that you have backup, which is really nice when you've misjudged your opponent and are getting the hell beat out of you. There are more resources available to you on a team which helps in your protection, including medical care. It's hell wondering whether your nearest and dearest are going to make it out alive," she said with sudden intensity and passion that struck her granddaughter, who saw clearly, perhaps for the first time, the legendary Paladin/Poppy in her grandma. Then Emma stared at her granddaughter. "So....the webbing. And the spider hairs. Those are really quite specific mutations. How did you get them, do you think?"

"I dunno, actually," May said quietly. "I got these bumps on my wrists about a month ago, but I never heard of anything like that as a result of puberty and the internet said that cancers don't present symmetrically, so I waited. A couple weeks later, I was peeing and they really started to hurt, like, pressure. So I started to move my hands around and when my hands flexed back, the webbing stuff shot out. It kind of burned, but then it felt better. And it was so cool!"

"And the clinging to the wall?"

"I didn't know I could do that until today. That's new."

Emma sat back into Bucky's hug. Her eyes cut to Peter.

He leaned forward in his chair, forearms on his knees, toying with his glass. "That's my fault," he said simply. And sadly. Tears formed in his eyes as he spoke to the ground. "We thought, that since you were a normal baby, that you'd escaped any of the consequences of my mutations."

"Daddy?" May asked, sounding afraid.

"Dad is Spiderman, sweetie," MJ said quietly.

"No fucking way!" May said. Tony wiggled his fingers at her.

"That's another thing," he said sternly. "Avengers have a swear jar." He grinned at Emma and Bucky and they smiled back. "Buck a swear. But I'll waive it this once, seeing as how this is a big surprise." 

"But...Dad?"

"Your old man's not quite the dull scientist you thought," Peter said, trying for a smile and failing. "I was younger than you were when I was at an exhibition put on by General Techtronics Laboratories, they were showing how to deal with radioactive waste. A spider had gotten irradiated and bit me. So I ended up becoming a street-level hero, before Tony recruited me."

"Which is why we don't do that anymore," Emma said sternly. Tony rolled his eyes.

"And it's been a hard life. I won't argue that it wasn't worthwhile, but it's hard. You're pretty much always in pain, and you can't tell anybody. You miss events because you're fighting some bad guy. There are times when you're Public Enemy Number One and everybody hates you. It's lonely, even when you're on a team. You lose precious things if you decide to go down that road. Most of us don't have much in the way of family. You do." He looked at his daughter, grief plain on his face. "I want better for you."

"Is this why Auntie May left?" Peter nodded.

"Nothing will be decided today," Bucky said into the silence. "She can't join the Avengers, and none of the other teams, Justice League or anybody else, will touch a minor. X-Men would, but Emma has friends there too and she'll shut that down. But," he said, lifting his voice to override his granddaughter's protest, "there are things that can be done. In exchange for staying off the streets as a hero, you can come to the tower and train your skills. You'll have to be evaluated to see if you have any other power, too, and I'm not going to lie, something like speed healing is really useful. Find the limits of your webbing, because you won't be able to produce indefinite quantities of the stuff. And, after grad school, you still want to join the Avengers..."

"You'll be an adult and can decide for yourself," Tony said. Still seeing rebellion in her face, he decided to sweeten the pot. "If you can show a history of good judgement and restraint, we can talk about your persona. You could develop your own or we could slot you into one of the legacy names. Captain America, War Machine, and Falcon are generally reserved for veterans, but your dad's mostly retired, so his Spiderman persona is open, with a gender twist, obviously. There's also Black Widow open, which would be a good fit namewise, but maybe not in skillset. Possibly by the time you're ready, Iron Man might be open."

"I'd make Paladin open to you if you have any interest in metallurgy," Emma said unexpectedly.

"Really?" May said, dropping down on the floor by her grandma, who smoothed her hair.

"Yep. But you'd have to agree to the conditions. I know you can't be stopped if you really want to. I tried to get your dad to quit but he wouldn't. But if you agree to all these conditions and promise to thoughtfully consider the pros and cons of the hero business, you'd be welcome to either of my identities, actually, Paladin or Poppy, even."

"Now the shoe's on the other foot, Mom," Peter said quietly. "She hasn't even done it yet, but I'm realizing what you went through with me. Sorry," he said, and this time managed a brief smile. MJ, sitting on the arm of his chair, rubbed his back.

"Pete, you said yourself that you couldn't not help, that you couldn't look the other way once you got your abilities," she said unexpectedly. "May is your daughter, it shouldn't be a surprise to you that she's like you in this. Now you'll know what it's like to be left behind and wait." She looked at her daughter. "I'll agree not to stand in your way if you agree to the terms your grandpa stipulated."

After the discussion was over and the terms agreed to, Tony, Emma, and Bucky left. "At least this way she'll be able to see what you really have to go through to be a hero," Tony said, and Bucky nodded.

"Don't go harder on her than you would anybody else," Emma said unexpectedly. "She shouldn't be treated any differently than any other kid you might encounter, it's not fair." There was some discussion, but both men ended up agreeing. "You can give her an internship, Tony, She doesn't really seem interested in the sciences, so she can do rotations through the business side of things as well as the clinic." Tony nodded.

"The first time somebody gets rushed in, spurting blood or whatever, will be eye-opening," he agreed. 

"If she can stay with the weapons training for six or seven years, with everything else, she'll deserve a spot on the team," Bucky said.

"You might try giving her some responsibilities in a couple years when she turns 18," Emma said. "Not fieldwork, but helping plan ops, taking care of supply, that kind of thing." Tony looked at her thoughtfully.

"You're looking for her to take over when I'm done," he said, and she nodded once.

"Have to develop her leadership skills, then," he said. "That can be your contribution." They discussed their plan in broad outlines until they reached their cars.


	8. Returns

Emma was just settling down for some personal fun with Bucky when there was a tap on the door. She burrowed her face in his neck.

"Emma, dear, please stop what you're doing and come out. There has been an interesting development. You too, Buchanan, this involves you as well. Meet me in the great hall and we will discuss this."

Emma sighed and looked around for her shift, absently handing Bucky his shirt. "Cockblocked by a goddess," she muttered. "I like Frigga a lot, but her timing is terrible." She heard faint silvery laughter and shook her head, reluctantly sliding off Bucky's lap.

Steve was waiting for them at the door and smiled wryly at them before giving Emma a light kiss. "Do you know what this is all about?" he asked, and the other two shook their heads. They went in together and Frigga's attendants brought chairs for them.

"Odin has made an interesting acquisition," she said, leaning forward. "He did not allow me to plead my case, for this man did not fall in battle, but passed into our realms gently." She frowned. "Odin is unrepentant," a slight snap to the words "for as he said, I am entitled to half of the warriors fallen in battle." She put an emphasis on the final three words. "So although this man was been a notable warrior, I was not allowed to offer for him. We will be meeting Valhalla in the battlefield soon, and I wish to soundly trounce my husband's army. I will take you to Valhalla to meet their new artificer, and I want you to look around during your visit, see what is being built and then return and turn your thoughts to defeating new creations. Now come, we are expected." She stood and the others dutifully followed.

They stood before the great hall in Valhalla, and Odin strode jauntily down the stairs, trailed by a smaller man. "Frigga, my dear," he said fondly. She received his kiss, and gestured behind her. Odin brightened and acknowledged the men before smiling at Emma. "My newest hero," he said complacently, and gestured to the man behind him.

"Hey, Tony," Emma said, unwilling affection in her voice. Tony smirked at them. He looked younger, as did they all, in his prime, energy fairly sparking off him. Steve repressed a sigh. Tony was a handful. Bucky nodded cautiously.

"Group hug," he demanded, extending his arms, and they came together for a brief moment.

"So how'd you die?" Bucky asked as Emma demanded news of mutual friends and acquaintances. Odin conjured a firepit and benches around it to combat the foggy twilight, shepherding the group over.

"Nice to see you too hobo," Tony snarked at Bucky. "I'd have thought you'd have at least cut your hair in the afterlife." Bucky's hair had reverted to the long style he'd worn toward the end of his career as HYDRA's asset.

Bucky smiled sunnily. "Emma likes it this way. She likes to run her fingers through it." Tony rolled his eyes and turned to Emma.

"Pete's fine, although he's privately having fits about May taking over for me, but MJ's keeping him in line. He's too busy running Stark Industries to have much time to fret. May's doing a good job of it, too. When she took command of the team, she started wearing a suit and now she's known as Iron Paladin." Emma nodded, impressed. "They're gearing up for the next Skrull-Kree battle. The last interrogation of a Kree I read said that now they're coming, not because they think they can really take the planet or keep it if they did, but because nobody wants to lose face in front of the galaxy by being defeated by one fractious little planet."

"Fuckers," Bucky muttered, and there were general nods of agreement.

"So what happened to you?" Steve said.

"Frustration," he said, and Emma snorted a laugh. "Not like that," Tony was quick to clarify. "I sort of had an apoplexy when I read the transcript of the interrogation. It's just so frustrating, you know? They won't ever quit, and each time they come back with improved weapons, and we have improved ours too. There's got to be a limit to how many times we can rebuild Manhattan." His face sagged. Emma reached over and squeezed his hand. They spoke of others and the state of the Avengers as Tony had last known it--time moved differently in the afterlife and none of them were sure what the exchange rate was or if it was even constant.

"So what are you working on these days?" Tony asked Emma during a lull in the conversation.

"Don't laugh," Emma warned him, a grin on her face. "Gardens. We're putting in gardens like the ones at Versailles or old manors and castles. I'm trying to figure out this epic fountain." Tony laughed.

"Well, what are you doing that's so much better?" she challenged him.

"Oh, the load in a trebuc-- well, I'm just getting started, really," Tony said quickly, his eyes cutting to Odin and back.

"Fine, don't tell me," Emma said dismissively. "It must be something embarrassing if you don't want to admit it."

"Ha! I've got swarms of little automatons and I thought about using bioenergy collectors to power weapons, but apparently we don't generate electricity like that here, so there's another challenge, and I'm improving siege weapons," Tony said quickly. Then he looked at Odin, who had facepalmed. "So...uh...fountains, you said?"

"Yeah...a flowering tree," Emma said politely. "Water jets out from each flower. The water pressure is a problem." Tony mentioned a few possible solutions off the top of his head, and conversation briefly stagnated.

"Father!" a deep voice bellowed, and Odin stood, turning toward the source. Everybody smiled as Thor and Loki strode into the circle. They looked around the fire and smiled. "My friends!" Thor said exuberantly, and did the manly handgrip-hug thing with each of the men before giving Emma a hug.

"Hi, Thor!" she gurgled, and the king released her, beaming, greeting his parents before returning to speak with Stark. Loki greeted Tony and Steve, spoke with Bucky at greater length, and sighed as he hugged Emma gently.

"My favorite aunt," he said with great affection. "It has been far too long since I have seen you. All of you, actually, except Stark, of course. How do you fare here?"

"Oh, Steve and Bucky and I are just visiting. Frigga brought us over to see Tony," Emma said. Loki looked at his father, who was looking at the sky, although the stars could not be seen due to the fog.

"That is interesting," Loki said mildly. "I understood you to be in Valhalla."

"Well, Odin offered Steve a place, but Frigga counter offered, and there was some compromises made, and Steve took up Frigga's offer, so of course Bucky and I did as well," Emma said, studiously ignoring Odin. Frigga covered her smile with her hand, and Thor merely shook his head.

"You should visit," Steve said enthusiastically. "I've got an obstacle course, so it's just like old times." Emma covered her face.

"Does Valhalla have an obstacle course, Tony?" she asked, and laughing, he said no. "I might have reconsidered if I'd known that my eternity included the obstacle course." Odin brightened, but Frigga put her hand on his arm and he subsided. Loki laughed.

"Come, I must return to my domain," Frigga said placidly, and they all rose. Odin kissed his wife goodbye, and the others made their farewells.

"It was so good to see you again," Emma said, squeezing Loki in a hug.

"Now that I know where to find you, perhaps I can visit more frequently," he said before releasing her.

"See you around, Tony," Steve said, slapping him on the back heartily. Stark staggered a step, then smirked at him.

Frigga waved them toward their home as they reappeared in Folkvangr. Emma walked between the two men. "I'm still kind of surprised that Tony didn't petition to change afterlifes after finding out where we are," she said as they reached the house. It was pentagon shaped; each of them had a bedroom, there was additionally a sumptuous bathroom and cozy main room, all arranged around an open outdoor area that had a tree, small gardens with roses, lavender, and pansies, and lounging furniture.

"I heard Stark telling Thor that he didn't want to spend eternity watching the three of us together," Bucky volunteered.

"I thought he got over his crush on me," she said, surprised, and the men made her laugh with a synchronized eye roll.

"Sweetheart, it wasn't ever just a crush," was all Steve said, and he slapped Bucky's arm as he went to his bedroom. Bucky escorted Emma to his room, which she'd helped him make cozy and welcoming, and they picked up where they'd been interrupted by Frigga.

*****

"That went well," Emma said brightly as she leaned on her poleaxe and surveyed the smoking destruction of the battlefield.

Steve laughed and kissed her passionately. Battle wasn't nearly as bad when nobody stayed dead, and he enjoyed the surge of endorphins after the exercise. And she'd be with him tonight. It was shaping up to be a pretty darned good day.

"Nice use of the tree fountains to blast away those freaky little robot dolls," Bucky said, coming up and kissing her cheek before hugging his friend. "Stark never saw that coming."

"I think he called them action figures," she said absently. "His suggestions for improving the water pressure for the fountains were a big help, he didn't know that the trees were articulated so that they move in the wind just like real trees. Or can be made to direct the jets of water to specific places. I wasn't sure what he was doing to the loads he was using in the trebuchets, but we were able to weaken the siege engines before they could do much damage. The use of thorn plants as the hedges is a really good, no-tech trick, I thought. But now they know our secrets, and Tony will get trickier for the next battle."

"Which will be at Valhalla," Steve said, nodding. "He's going to be embarrassed by his loss today."

"Well, we can hold off on planning for one night," Bucky said. "We waxed his ass today. Tomorrow we can all start plotting again."

"I wonder if we should talk to the commanders about setting sentries tonight. And by we, I mean you or Bucky, you're getting included in the highest rankings of the warriors these days. Odin's going to be pissed, so is Tony," Emma said thoughtfully.

"Wouldn't hurt," Steve agreed practically, and went to speak with Frigga and her chief advisors, patting Emma on the butt affectionately.

That night during the celebratory feast, the sentries repulsed a raiding party. With prejudice. The cheers from Sessrumnir might have echoed all the way back to Valhalla.


	9. Follow up interview

Colin James: So how did you meet Emma? What did you think of her? When did you fall in love with her?

Steve Rogers: In the jungle, where she made my shield, that she was prettier and tougher than I was expecting, and that last is a little hard to pin down. (pause.) Can this be off the record?

CJ: Sure. It'll give me insight, but I won't quote you here.

SR: Thanks. She was interesting to begin with, then pretty amazing, then captivating. It was just a nudge from that to realizing that I loved her. I've never felt more inadequate.

CJ: Wait. Why would you feel inadequate? You're Captain freaking America.

SR: That. Captain America is a suit with padded shoulders. Steve Rogers is a nobody from Brooklyn who finally found a way to serve. Emma Harrington is skilled and accomplished and beautiful and charismatic and tougher than I'll ever be. She's had to be. She hasn't always fared too well with me or the Avengers.

(Silence spools out on the recording.)

CJ: I hate to break it to you, but your shoulders are pretty big. It's not all the suit.

SR: (snorts a laugh)

CJ: So tell me what happened.

Steve checked the GPS monitor on his phone and sighed. It felt like he'd been pushing through the jungle for half his life already, and frankly, he was too much of a city boy to really like all the nature. He was sick of the humidity, the bugs, the afternoon rains, the dirt, the snakes... He was grateful for the smartphone, though. T'Challa had promised him that the signal was untraceable, and he trusted the king enough to leave Bucky with him, so accepting his word about the phone was easy.

Seeing Bucky go into cryo had hurt, even if it was Bucky's choice this time. He couldn't argue with his reasons and the solution was very sensible, but it just about broke his heart. To see Bucky so diminished was... difficult. Steve had always looked up to him. He was taller, stronger, popular with both boys and girls, athletically gifted, and Steve probably could have been snapped like a twig if the wind was strong enough. Then when he'd found out that he hadn't died in the fall from the train, Bucky was still strong and skilled and the best at what he did. There was the problem that he was kind of crazy, homicidal, and a cyborg (that was the right word, right? Modern vocabulary was a bitch.) But he'd also still been Bucky, deep down inside, and Bucky'd saved his life--again--when he pulled Steve out of the Potomac. And then to finally have found him again, only to lose him again because of Tony. Damn Tony, sometimes, Steve though moodily as he tripped over a tree root. He wouldn't see reason, not about Bucky, not about the Accords, it was just all about him. His remorse, his fears, his hurt. Well, Steve was hurting too. Been hurting most of his life, but always trying to be the bigger man, to overlook and forgive the kids who made his life a living hell when he was a kid, the women who saw his scrawny exterior and not the dreams and ambitions inside, everybody who was condescending or overlooked him, the other guys his age who saw him as a drag and unsophisticated, at least as much as they understood the word. And he supposed he was. The only place he'd really felt at home was in art school and with Bucky.

The exterior had changed quite a lot as a result of his desperation to do his part for the war. He'd agreed to trial a new procedure. Try to become a "super soldier." He'd gone in as that scrawny kid and emerged a whole different man. The scientists had been awed, and pretty Peggy Carter hadn't been able to resist touching him. Everybody had wanted to touch him then, having gained almost a foot in height as well as an absurd amount of muscle. He had to admit, to himself, that it had been flattering to be admired, and having an outside that matched the strength of his desire to make a difference had felt like a vindication. For about five minutes, until he learned he could be poked and prodded in New Mexico in a highly secured lab or be a bond salesman. He was still underestimated.

Then, finally, a chance to show what he could do. And what he could do was pretty amazing, frankly. He'd rescued the 107th from slave labor singlehanded and saved Bucky from experimentation. Not exactly a damsel in distress, but more important, on a personal level, to be able to finally pay him back, just a little, for his friendship and kindness. It had been because he wanted to protect the men who followed him that he worked hard to hone skills and leadership abilities he'd never known he had. Never had anybody to lead, anyway. After Bucky's loss, he'd just kind of phoned in the rest of the war. He'd been engaged and paid attention to the details, because he still had men who depended on him, but his heart had gone out of the fight. He could have ditched the Valkyrie, jumped out, been picked up, seen the end of the war and maybe had a future with Peggy. But now, older and wiser, he knew he'd taken the easy way out. Except that it hadn't worked, and he'd woken up in a strange new world. Maybe he could have understood what he was getting into when he woke up in a simulation of the New York he'd left, only to find out that it was a lie. Coming to grips with a new century, everything he'd missed, was harder than he could have imagined. The language had shifted, technology had advanced at a rate he'd not thought was possible, the culture was, frankly, weird and unseemly, a lot. Newspapers were an endangered species, fashions were ridiculous--the dichotomy between skinny jeans on women and the trousers bagging around young men's knees was baffling, and what the hell was a hipster?--and sex was just everywhere. For a reticent virgin who'd grown up in a much more repressed time, it was uncomfortable.

'Come join the Avengers!' Nick Fury had proposed, and he'd done it because he didn't know what else he could do. He'd thought that he was on the same side with his new team. But the more he learned, the murkier it had all felt, until he'd found that HYDRA had essentially been using SHIELD as, well, a shield. Fury had imposed an order on the Avengers, even if it was manipulative as hell, and once he'd faded into the shadows, it was just the Avengers, and the faultlines started to show early on. Tony was even more brilliant than his father and was willing to bankroll the operation, but he was insecure and could be a two-year old brat when thwarted. Howard had had his flaws, but he'd known the value of teamwork. Too bad he'd ignored his offspring and not taught him those skills.

And Tony... Steve shook his head and paused for a drink of warm water. Yuck. Another thing to hate about the jungle. They'd formed a friendship, but Tony's personal instabilities created stress, partly because it wasn't Steve's nature to be changeable or volatile. He was himself, with his core values that he just wasn't willing to compromise. Tony was a butterfly in a lot of ways; he'd not had a purpose until the Avengers, but once he'd found his purpose, he clung to it with both hands and a lot of technology. But for all his very real skills, he was immature in many ways, having grown up with almost limitless resources and inadequate, hands-off parenting. So once again, Steve had been the mature, thoughtful one. And he'd tried hard, sublimating his desires and ambitions for the good of the team. But Tony had impulsively taken the opportunity to create Ultron, and what a disaster that had been. Their very own corps of jack-booted thugs out to exterminate at least a big chunk of humanity, if not all of it. And another op that ended up having important consequences. Yes, people had been killed, and he regretted each and every soul. But by capturing the bioweapon, they'd managed to save a lot more. People never looked for offsetting good anymore, he brooded. They focused on the bad, politicians using them for their own ends. And he wasn't trying to avoid responsibility for his mistakes, but he did expect a fair and balanced review of their actions. Which they never got. When the reckoning had come, Tony'd been more eager than a puppy to roll over and show his belly. He wasn't seeing even forest or trees, just some undefined threat, like the Ents tearing down Eisengard. And he'd happily been ok with turning everybody, including Wanda, who was just a kid, over to the government. And not even the US government, which was a lot less trustworthy than he'd thought, but the UN. The UN was a great idea, but in practice, it had its share of flaws. And fundamentally, he was an American. He could put up with orders from generals or from the security apparatus as long as it was in the best interest of his country. But the US was part of the UN, not the sole deciding voice. And US officials, who should have been acting responsibly on behalf of US citizens, had tried to have Bucky killed in Romania. No trial, just execution by the police of a foreign country. They wouldn't even let him have a lawyer when he'd been captured. The rule of law was breaking down. It hadn't been that hard to turn away from Tony in Siberia, all in all. Stark'd just kept pushing, not willing to bend, to consider anybody else's feelings or perspective, and Steve's patience had finally snapped; he'd taken out all his frustrations on Tony. He'd said once he didn't trust anybody without a dark side. Well, he'd seen more of Steve's that day than he thought possible. And the thing with the shield had been a cheap shot. Or a last-ditch effort to manipulate him again. And he'd just been done.

Well, he'd done the best he could for Bucky, he'd broken his teammates out of that godforsaken high-security prison in the ocean--and somebody was going to answer, sooner or later, for Wanda's treatment. She'd been drugged, put in a shock collar and a straightjacket. That was not ok. For the first time in his life, he was free. He'd mostly forgiven Tony and extended an olive branch; it remained to be seen whether he'd take it. So now he was wandering the world like a nomad, trying to find a purpose or peace of mind. But goddamn it, he felt naked without his shield, and although it was a pretty big risk, he wanted another one. He'd heard about a mechanic somewhere in the middle of the jungle who could do just about anything. He remembered that Howard had made his shield on a lathe, and felt confident that a competent metalworker could do the same. It wouldn't be vibranium, but he could work with steel, too. The problem was with payment. As soon as he accessed his bank account, the authorities would know where he was.

He slapped at a bug. Hopefully this mechanic would be easy to work with and he could maybe barter for the shield, or give an IOU if trust could be established. Then he could get out of this moist hell hole and go someplace drier, with a more reasonable climate. He frowned and halted. He could hear music. What's more, it was familiar music. He hadn't heard the Andrews Sisters in ages. Literally. They were on his to-purchase list, but he'd been trying to get up to date on music before revisiting all of his old favorites. And, too, he couldn't exactly carry records with him on the lam from justice. He followed the sound of the music, supplemented with odd clanging noises, and came to a clearing. "Hello? Anybody here?" he shouted.

Then something tightened around his ankles and he was jerked skyward. He didn't struggle, wanting to establish from the beginning that he wasn't a threat. And waited. He cleared his throat. "I don't suppose you could let me down? I'm not here to cause trouble." There's a pause, and he was lowered gently. He did a handspring when he was released and ended on his feet, looking around alertly. The only person he saw was a woman, shorter than he was, dressed in a tank top and loose trousers that tied at the waist. A shock of long silver hair was tied back in a pony tail. She looked both lovely and formidable, her tank top showing well-developed muscles in her shoulders and arms. She was a little sweaty, which looked good on her and caused the fabric of her top to cling gently to a defined abdomen and small but assertive breasts. Quickwitted, too; she recognized him without making it obvious, and agreed to barter terms immediately. And kind. She offered him a place to stay and protected him from her neighbors' notice.

Her process was hugely different from Howard's, he learned quickly. He felt like he'd earned something important when she let down her guard enough to tell him what had happened, and he immediately understood her, somebody else who'd tangled with Tony Stark and suffered the consequences. He felt a kinship with her based on that, and wanted to pound on Stark again, just because. She didn't ask for his pity or condemnation, or anything, actually, even understanding. It seemed like she was relieved just to be able to tell her story to someone who wouldn't judge her. She only gave him the broad outlines and he suspected that the real core of how she felt, why she felt the need to isolate herself, the true cost of the damage was kept inside, safe from comment or advice. He understood why she'd hole up in an isolated place to recover. Unlike him, she hadn't volunteered for experimentation. He felt a little envious. The changes she'd gotten from her chemical treatment were a lot more useful than his. He was basically a strongman who healed fast. She could make things and fix things, limited only by her knowledge and imagination, which seemed pretty vast compared to his. Her competence, the way she was so obviously at home in her skin was sexy, but he was too intimidated by her to do anything about it, plus there was that little thing about being an international fugitive and he didn't want any harm to come to her as a result of this.

He wished he knew where Nat was. She'd laugh, but she'd give him good advice about how maybe to get her attention as something more than a scruffy refugee.

He also respected her abilities; she managed to keep him fed and cared for while eluding the notice of her neighbors and while crafting something that was beyond his understanding. She never made him feel stupid, though, or like a charity case, although he was. His streak of bad luck followed him, though, and suspicion for harboring him fell on her. She had to abandon her home when her neighbors came for a fight. He'd followed her, just to make sure she wasn't harmed, he told himself. She said she wanted to go to Asia, start over. Dear god, the jungles in Asia would be even worse. He counteroffered with Wakanda. T'Challa would, he knew, be delighted to employ her, she'd be safe, it was incredibly civilized there, infrastructure, the works. And he could visit there, keeping an eye on both her and Bucky. He'd managed to convince her, so once she got them down the river safely, they could find a ship and go from there. But he'd been overconfident, wanting to demonstrate competency somehow, and he didn't like to think about what might have happened if Thor hadn't saved his ass.

Asgard had been nicer than he'd anticipated, and he'd thought that maybe he could spend some time with her in this less-stressful situation, but Thor needed his help. The problems he was encountering keeping peace in the Nine Realms were all-consuming, and Steve had done his best to help his teammate. He'd liked the new armor he'd been given, the people were polite, and he could rest easy knowing that Emma was being taken care of. So he'd focused his attentions on the battles and the planning. There were a couple of parties that the Asgardians seemed to think were necessary for relaxation, and the women had been very attentive. He'd been content, until one night when he'd seen her in the dining hall. She stood out, being so small and dainty compared to the Asgardians, shabby in the clothes she'd brought from Earth. Hadn't anybody equipped her? He suddenly felt absurd in the armor and cape that had been fitted to him. And why did she have a guard watching her? He knew with a cursory glance that he was watching her, not providing protection for her. He'd gone up to her and seen immediately that she was quite unhappy; she asked him to speak to Thor about returning her to Earth. The thinly veiled pleading in her voice bothered him, and after realizing that Thor had forgotten about her, he promised to see what he could do. He didn't really want her to leave, he still had hope he could carve out time to spend with her. But when he talked to Thor, he realized that the work was just ramping up, and yes, Thor had completely forgotten about her. He was completely dismissive about her and hadn't bothered to even learn her name. Heimdall joined him in persuading Thor, who didn't want to deal with anything else right then, and he had the feeling that she'd done some work for Heimdall, but he didn't seem altogether clear on her name either, which pissed him off. Heimdall smoothly manipulated his king into getting him to agree to send her away and not return. Thor agreed irritably, and it was set. The next morning he went to the observatory to say goodbye, but he arrived too late. Heimdall had turned off the Bifrost, and Steve slumped. Heimdall looked into him and told him that she had fixed the Bifrost and it was better that she was gone; she hadn't been allowed to go anywhere or given other work. Steve swore, heartfelt. Heimdall had seemed embarrassed by the quality of the hospitality and tried to conceal an attraction to her, which made him feel better. He wasn't the only jackass. Heimdall did say he'd given her a task, which she could do or not, and that he'd given her some items for her journey as well as a source of funds. He had to be content with that.

After things had settled down in the Nine Realms and Odin had revived, Thor wanted to reconcile the Avengers and had shown up in his chambers one morning with Steve's normal clothes. He had Heimdall put them down close to where she was, feeling that she owed him for the hospitality of Asgard. Steve didn't have time to argue. Then he found her in another mess, what with echoes from the past and current interest in the super soldier serum. She'd agreed to help, he suspected, so she could get rid of them faster, but that had also ended badly in her deportation. Things had worked out legally for him and the other outlaws from the Accords, and they were all allowed back into the States. He was suspicious when Tony tracked her to Seattle, but it was a lucky accident. They were going bicoastal, and that meant that maybe he could see her when he was on the West Coast. He didn't plan on the others wanting to keep an eye on her and he wasn't in favor of getting her to join them in any capacity. They were a mess, and he didn't want her in the middle of it. Plus, the way that Tony was acting about her made him very nervous. And it blew up at what should have been a nice lunch. Their history was more extensive than he'd realized, and a lot more horrifying.

Colin James: So what do you think about Emma Harrington?

Tony Stark (slurring his words some) Gorgeous woman. Decent brain.

CJ: Did you ever date her?

TS: Not for lack of trying. We could have done amazing things together, but she's always seen through me to my hollow core.

CJ: How do you feel about her?

TS: Love her. Always have. Tried to impress her, but blew it. Being an asshole, I took it out on her. I'm lucky she even talks to me, the times I've fucked her over. Then Cap swept her off her feet. Lucky bastard. He's fucked her over too, but somehow she keeps going back to him. Don't know why. He doesn't deserve her either. (Silence, broken by a small snore.)

CJ: Shit. I can't use any of that. He's not going to remember this in the morning.

But she'd ended up joining, what with a few suspicious events, and things had gone pretty well until Bucky came out of cryo and Steve wanted to bring him on board. Stark couldn't get past how the Winter Soldier had killed his parents. Emma took the news of Howard Stark's assassination badly, but with typical thoroughness researched brainwashing and other related psychological issues, and ended up not just agreeing he could come, but proposed a compromise and funded his psychiatric care and recovery. And she'd made Bucky's replacement arm.

Colin James: What were your first impressions of Emma Harrington?

"Bucky" Barnes: She was a ray of sunlight. Her eyes smiled when she met me. She was so eager to show me what she made, and I was amazed at what she created. And she did this funny little dance after the arm worked like it was supposed to. I didn't know what to make of her, actually. And she was polite and respectful, which I couldn't really wrap my head around. Didn't she know what I'd done? And she had this great house that she was letting me live in, found a psychiatrist who would treat me, gave me money for therapy and everything. Never asked for even a thank you. I can't ever repay her.

CJ: Ever consider dating her?

BB: Off the record?

CJ: Sure.

BB: Yeah. She's one of only a few people who don't think I'm a psycho. She's amazing and lovely. But I could tell that Steve really liked her, and I owe him too much. She's too good for me, anyway. She deserves better.

Then there was the trip to the Yucatan to collect Night Terror. What a fuckup that was. With the storm and everything, nothing worked the way it should, then everything went to hell on the actual op. Steve had triggered the landslide that buried him because he wasn't being careful enough, and everybody had had to divert from their own activities to help him. It had been their undoing; the hillside had been mined with bioagents to take them out. Emma had found him and realized when they got back that he was getting sicker. The information she collected like a hoarder had provided his salvation in the very strange form of Dr Strange and his weirdo cloak. Steve remembered waking up, panicked, not understanding where he was or what was happening to him, only to see her in a space suit, soothing him. She looked tired, and the doctors took her to task when they finally showed up. She left. He didn't want her to go he wanted her to stay, to know she was close, caring about him. But he got better fast once his healing ability was able to get on top of it, and he heard about what she'd done for him, making her contributions, bringing in Bucky, seeing to everybody else. She'd also broken a lot of rules, bringing the wrath of the doctors down on her, which he'd thought was unfair. And then he'd felt threatened, because she'd shown her impressive leadership skills.

Steve Rogers: I can be such an ass.

Colin James: (laughs)

She was tired and run ragged at the meeting where they discussed the mission. Everybody had made mistakes, and had sought to deflect attention by pointing out somebody else's mistakes. It turned into a piling on for what she'd done, which wasn't actually bad especially in comparison to others' mistakes, and she'd snapped and quit. That night they bickered among themselves; Tony was the one who'd come up with the plan to get her working again, and she'd had everybody over for Christmas. She'd been so stubborn, refusing to rejoin the Avengers, even though everybody wanted her to. Steve had taken her insistence that she wasn't a hero personally. She'd proved to everybody that she was when they'd been attacked at the visitor's center. He and she had been on the outs due to his temper tantrum when she wouldn't come back, but she still put herself in between him and the bullets. Her rebirth as Paladin.

Steve Rogers: I liked designing her costumes. The ones that Costuming came up with pissed her off because they were always trying to push her into a mold. Be a bosomy superheroine with a scanty costume. I always tried to show her that she was beautiful and desirable in other ways, highlighting her other excellent qualities. Her costumes for Comic Con were kind of a love letter to her. They showed off her beautiful shoulders and arms, her slender figure, the graceful column of her throat. She looked ethereal. I was always glad that Promotions had assigned her blue for her official color. I liked having that in common with her.

Colin James: Those costumes are legendary now. If I ask fans what their most vivid image of the Avengers is, about half the time they'll say seeing pictures of that Hall H appearance with you guys and Joss Whedon. It totally blew away your fan base.

SR: What about the other half?

CJ: Three of five will say the Chitauri invasion, and the last two will be either a personal memory of an encounter with an Avenger or they'll mention that photoshoot in Versailles. Specifically, the picture of that kiss. But for sheer impact, you can't beat Comic Con. Do you still have the sketches you made?

SR: Oh, yeah. I've lost count of how many sketchbooks I've filled up. Emma is my muse.

CJ: I'd like to see them.

SR: (slightly panicking) Uh... I couldn't let you just go through them. I could show you a few drawings, though.

CJ: Have you drawn her like you did your French girls?

SR: (primly) I don't get that reference.

CJ: (laughs harder) So tell me about the kiss.

SR: Some fans were pursuing me, and I ran into Emma by accident. She was kind of laughing at me, so I just acted on impulse. It was amazing. Her hair is so soft. The kiss was just electric. I could have kissed her forever. And then I didn't quite know what to do next. I mean, I know what I WANTED to do next, but we were in public. Then afterward, Promotions was making a fuss, and she was so irritated that I backed off. Then after the photoshoot in France, I went to her house and told her how I felt.

CJ: What did you think about France?

SR: It's a lot nicer now that the Germans aren't occupying it. It's a very romantic place.

CJ: Then what happened?

SR: We were together, then I started to flail around with the PTSD and pushed her away. Right after that we went on an op to find Ms Smith, who'd hired Night Terror . She was really badly hurt by a guy who had a grudge against me, a HYDRA operative. She took a leave of absence to recover physically and mentally, and when she got back she wanted nothing to do with me. I understood, eventually. (eye roll) I'm a little slow. But I worked to show her that I knew I was wrong, but it wasn't until after she found Odin and we went on the rescue mission to find Thor and Hulk that I was able to convince her to marry me.

CJ: Did you really ask her to marry you when you were in the Arena?

SR: I'm categorizing that more as a declaration of intent. I asked her later, with a ring and all, more romantically, when we got back.

CJ: She's got a good sense of humor.

SR: Fortunately.

CJ: So you had a nice wedding, great honeymoon, then you come back, and a few months later, the bad news.

SR: The worst. The serum was breaking down or something.

While it would be nice to blame Tony for the whole mess, Steve was eager to buy what he was selling. He hadn't lost his reason yet, and his desperation for a quick and easy solution to his crisis led to a rather poorly considered decision that was supported by everyone who found out about it. When he was successfully revived, it was a triumph. Except that his memory was holier than Swiss cheese. And he forgot who his wife was.

She disappeared, which should have been a surprise to exactly no one, but this was a team not quite in touch with reality. No one heard a word from her aside from Loki and Peter, and Peter was so furious with all of them that he refused to speak with them. She sent letters to Loki, sometimes with a small, fragrant flower or herb. He didn't share the letters, and Nick delivered them personally so that post marks could not be examined. He figured out that she was hiking, and monitored the route so that he could provide discreet assistance if necessary. It wasn't. He started monitoring Breckenridge after seeing how broken she looked on some security feeds, and listened with no comment when Tony and Steve tried to find her.

Colin James: How did you finally remember your wife?

Steve Rogers: I was unpacking the last of my boxes in February and found a crumpled up flannel shirt. Bucky glanced at it and said Emma had loved me in it, he'd seen her once crying into it. And I caught a whiff of perfume. It triggered my memory. It was like living without water and being hit by a tidal wave. I had a panic attack. Buck had to call the clinic for advice. (Silence) When we found her, she looked at me with such loathing. She was really suffering. Her dogs had been taken back, and they were a huge support to her. She wouldn't speak to me, wouldn't listen. I was desperate, but you can't blame her.

CJ: Wasn't gonna, actually.

SR: Bucky asked for her help with his arm and she agreed. By that time, what I'd done had strained our friendship almost to the breaking point. He wouldn't tell us when it was scheduled, but we got T'Challa to. He didn't know the full extent of what we'd done or he wouldn't have. Then Thor brought her dogs back and arranged for his brother to be her roommate. He made it sound like she'd be doing him a favor, but it was a way to be sure she was ok. Thor was really worried about her, and Loki would have done anything to help. Thor and Bucky finally said where she was when she got the subway virus and had to have medical treatment. She almost died. A lot of doctors and ERs won't treat supers with physical enhancements. It can be dangerous, or they just don't have the equipment. And everybody knew not to even suggest that she be taken to the clinic in the tower. 

CJ: And that was the beginning of the reconciliation.

SR: I worked really hard to show her that I was sorry. I didn't expect to get her back. I don't really deserve her.

CJ: Do you worry about heroing? It's dangerous, and she's been very badly injured a few times.

SR: Of course. But if I go down, I want her to be happy. Ideally with Buck. They'd be good for each other. If she goes down... fuck. I don't know what I'd do. I've never handled her brushes with death well before.

CJ: You've really got a potty mouth. I thought you were all about clean language and clean living.

SR: (smiling slightly) It's disrespectful to swear around women, but sometimes a curse is very expressive. (shrugs slyly) And while I can't get intoxicated anymore, there are other ways to be a wild man. (booming laugh) I just keep that sort of thing private. An enhanced physiology has to be good for something, right?

CJ: You're a surprising guy, Cap. (laughing)

SR: Well, nobody likes to be too predictable. (Winks) If we're done, I've got a date with my wife. I did tell you that she asked me, the second time, right? Just want to brag about that again.

CJ: (laughs) You may have mentioned that before. (They say goodbye. The door closes behind Cap. Colin laughs.) This is going to be one hell of a book. Be better if I could use everything off the record, though. These guys. What a bunch of goofballs.


	10. Loyalty

Sigurd stuck his head out of a window in this odd conveyance and smiled. He liked this, the wind in his fur, all the scents, going fast. The way the wind made his ears flap. He was a little disappointed when they slowed, and stopped. This world was oddly geometric, he thought. The streets were mostly grids, the houses plentiful, squarish. But there were many new forms of life to investigate.

He'd been dubious when offered this opportunity. It would be his first bonding, and Baldr, the master of the Asgardian hounds wasn't sure it would take, he said, with a Midgardian. Sigurd didn't know what that was, but Baldr could be a bit of a shit sometimes, so he didn't take him too seriously. But the prince had said that there was a woman with enemies, an odd sort of warrior, who needed protection, someone she could trust. Sigurd had listened and agreed; a chance to live on his own was appealing. He had accompanied the prince through the Bifrost (not his favorite experience ever) and resolved in a place where all the smells were new. The pace of movement here was startlingly quick, but it didn't take him long to get used to it, and once the one called Nick opened the window for him, he found the quickness positively appealing.

"Bide a moment," the prince told him, and he sat with his forelegs draped over the windowsill of what the Nick person had called an Essyouvee. He watched as they opened a ridiculously puny gate and walked into a yard that Sigurd longed to explore, perhaps roll around in the grass. Maybe even dig a little, get his paws in the dirt. The door to the dwelling opened, although he could not see who the two men spoke with. He waited patiently until the prince turned, smiling, and whistled to Sigurd. He squoze himself through the window and trotted up the brick path, pleased with this world, and saw a female person in the doorway. She looked frazzled and her eyes opened wide.

"Motherfucker," she said, and stepped back in alarm. Sigurd couldn't help it, his feelings were hurt. He knew he was handsome, and his preferred mate Siglinde said he was kind and a good father.

"This is Sigurd," the prince said, introducing him . "His name means victory and guardian, and this is why he is here. He is from Asgard and will protect you against all threats."Sigurd sat down and wagged his tail, looking trustworthy and friendly. My word, she was a small thing.

"Nice doggy,"she said, tentatively extending her hand, which looked miniscule. He nudged her with his cold wet nose, inviting her to pet, which she did. Her face brightened as she dug through his soft plush fur. The prince laughed again and thumped Sigurd's shoulder. Sigurd grasped his wrist in his immense jaws and issued a mild warning.

"See?" the prince said. "He will keep you from harm." Sigurd kept his wrist between his teeth until the nice lady said to let go.

The humans continued to speak a bit, but Sigurd was impressed with the way she kept skritching That Place behind his ear. It felt so good. He followed the lady--the prince had said her name was Emma, odd but ok--into the house, which seemed small but interesting. She said she'd never had a dog before, and Sigurd felt sorry for her, for her deprivation. But she took him to a 'pet store' and he overlooked the obvious insult. He was no pet. He maintained his dignity as a clerk justly admired his physical perfection, then bounded happily over to a soft bed. And there were huge quantities of food here. There was quite a lot that she deemed necessary for his health and comfort, and he was not disposed to argue with her. Even when it was a tight fit in the 'car' on the way home. She put his new bed in the chamber with her own, which pleased him. He would be able to protect her better. He ate some interesting new food, drank a lot of water to rehydrate, and they went for a walk. He'd worried that Bifrost travel would make him constipated, but he seemed to have avoided this. He went to go test his new bed, but paused, considering the lady's own resting place. It was quite large. And she was quite small. He tested it for himself. Oh, so nice. He woke when she came in and observed him.

"Naughty dog," she said, sounding resigned. But she didn't order him off the bed. He closed his eyes quickly when he saw her looking at him. And it was surprisingly pleasant to sleep back-to-back with her.

The next few days were a flurry of activity. There was a meeting, where he got to play with the prince; he'd shocked and appalled the lady Emma with the dirt he managed to accumulate, but he was a wild creature who needed to run. And then she cleaned him so he was a handsome boy again. Then next day they encountered many other Midgardians, some of them puppy sized, and he preened as they admired his beauty. Then they went 'shopping'; he didn't know what to do, really, so he simply trailed after Emma. He paused in one place to sit on a thing she called a 'sofa' but some impolite man yelled at him. Emma's face grew tight and she ignored him to work with another individual. Then she obtained a larger conveyance. Much, much nicer. His mellow mood continued until they returned home, when some persons unknown attempted to abduct her. Sigurd knew his duty and ripped them away from his Midgardian. He was enraged at the nerve, with him right by! It was endearing, however, that she sought to protect him by getting him into the house. Let them try again, and he'd rip the flesh from their bones and poop on the skeletons. People he recognized from the meeting showed up and whisked him and his Emma away, back to the place with the really big yard, and he and she settled in there. The days blended into one another; there were no new threats and much to explore. He trained his Emma to groom him properly, and she was very good about keeping him supplied with treats and toys of her own volition. Then the Allfather's crows showed up and on the heels of that, the disgraced prince was brought down. The king spoke with him, and he was amazed and proud of how his Emma spoke to him, not quite as equals, as would have been unseemly, but forthright and frank, an insightful advisor. And then the prince showed up with his son, a gift from Odin himself. He was surprise that Siglinde had agreed to part with her favorite son, but took it as a mark of confidence. He hoped he was up to guiding the little pup appropriately, but felt certain that their Emma would be up to the challenge.

His Emma befriended the dark prince, and they ended up spending time together. It was nice, Sigurd thought, to have an Asgardian close to hand. It was a little piece of home, but in a nice, contained dose. He got to do a lot more on Midgard and wasn't so constrained by the way of life. Plus the food was much better; he quickly acquired followers on the kitchen staff who pampered him delightfully. So delightfully that he turned a little stout and had to watch his diet.

To balance out these delights, his Emma had a habit of attracting trouble. Not one but two situations where the air conveyance they were riding in crashed, and Bad People showed up. And he and his son, whom she had named Torburn, were not always in a position to help, as when she went to a city to stop people who were named after snakes, of all the dumb things. She came back from that injured.

He sat back and watched the people around his Emma. The one called Fury, he understood immediately and kept an eye on. Morally flexible to an extent his Emma did not fully comprehend, he could be dangerous. He approved of his Emma's attachment to the lonely spiderling child; he reciprocated her affection and caring, and Sigurd was pleased that the young one had such a guardian. She attracted suitors like moths to light although she failed to see them for what they truly wanted. Finally one of them moved, kissing her in public, causing a little scandal, which Sigurd did not understand. His kind did not kiss, but the humans also didn't sniff the undertail region, possibly because they had no tails, and perhaps this was an analog? But he was worried about his Emma; mating was good for mind and body, and the Midgardians didn't have mating seasons, so there was no reason for her to deny herself, but she did. He was taken aback when she made her choice, however, at the frequency and duration of the matings. He learned quickly to absent himself when she was with the one called Steve in private. The Steve seemed a good sort, although not truly the equal of his Emma; he could have ripped out his throat when he pushed her away, refusing her help and her love. And his son had to go see to his mother, the lovely and fearsome Siglinde, and he could not help. After that, he could not truly accept the one called Steve although his Emma eventually allowed him to work to regain his place in her heart, and they were married. After a significant adventure during which he and Torburn were not allowed to assist. Still, it had been an honor to be assigned to guard the king. It was just unfortunate that his considerable prowess as a warrior was not needed, and he learned later that she had been in grave danger indeed. He did not truly understand how the one called Steve could die and come back without the permission of Hela, but he had seen it--and the consequences it had for his beloved Emma--for his own eyes. He and Torburn had been confused, frightened and angry; it was as if their Emma had taken a mortal blow but there was no blood. They stayed with her, steadfast, undemanding protectors.

He knew something horrible was happening when Baldur showed up unheralded, unannounced, and reclaimed them. They could not refuse, and their Emma could not make him relent. They were returned to Asgard and Baldur sought to break the bond they had with their Emma; he felt that it was a waste of his hounds to be matched with an insignificant Midgardian--and a woman! whose warrior credentials he had always questioned.

But the bond would not be broken. And the hounds had had enough. Baldur had permitted them to bond to their Emma, which was was for the life of either of the participants. And he had broken faith with them, with the purpose for which he had developed their kind, and interfered with the bond that the hounds had with their mistress. So they did the only thing they could. They lay down and refused to move and refused sustenance. Without their Emma, they did not have a purpose. And the other hounds were upset, suspicious about Baldur, and fretted over their declining state. It was a fearsome thing to have a hunger strike laid against one; it indicated that the grievance was so serious that death was preferable to submission. Sigurd lay on his side, too weak to move, when the prince hunted down Baldur and roared at him, but Baldur refused to yield. It took the king himself, arriving at the kennels, observing the state of him, his son, and the rest of the highly agitated hounds, to reverse Baldur's decision.

"You would make my son a liar, Baldur?" the king asked, voice rising, the spear Gungnar sparking with his ire. "The Lady Emma was assured by Thor that the dogs were hers for her lifetime, as is proper and fitting for their kind. You have been unable to break their devotion to her, and now look at what you have done. Two of our finest lie near death. Because of your pride, your conceit, your unwillingness to admit the worth of a woman."

"A woman!" Baldur snorted. "A frail Midgardian female, too small and feeble even to mate with a proper warrior!"

The temperature in the kennel dropped a good fifty degrees, or seemed to. Sigurd shivered, his emaciated body wracked with the chill. "And yet this woman cares not for the consequences but advises me wisely, even if it does not suit my ego to hear it. She was willing to sacrifice herself to restore me to my throne, her and her companions, taking risks that you, o warrior, were unwilling to hazard." Scorn dripped from the Allfather's voice, and Sigurd began to hope. "Speak not about what you fail to comprehend. She is a fitting companion to my son and his lady wife, a champion to my other son. Her grace and compassion you cannot understand. Your arrogance has cost her and these her hounds much. By my word as king, they are to be returned to her for her life. The hounds are not yours in service of your vanity. You were meant to develop their kind and care for them, gifting them to the worthy. And you have failed, most abjectly, in the second and third of these responsibilities. I relieve you of your charge. The hounds will have a new master. You will depart these kennels and not return." The king waited, and when compliance was not immediate, shouted "Begone!" The very stones of the kennels shifted with the might of the Allfather's decree, and Baldur stormed out. The prince and the king bent over Sigurd and his son, Siglinde fairly dancing in her agitation. "It will be well," the king said firmly to her, and picked up Torburn carefully. The prince picked up Sigurd and followed to the healers. "The Lady Emma has cause to think ill of those of us outside the halls of healing," the king said to the head of those halls. "You must restore these, her hounds, to health before they can be returned to her."

It had taken a week, even with the work of the healers, for Sigurd and Torburn, to be strengthened enough to withstand the force of travel by the Bifrost. They were still too thin, their coats dull with the strain of their sacrifice, but they went with the prince eagerly. They were confused to find themselves in the middle of a busy city rather than the small mountain town, but the prince assured them that their Emma was here. He and the one called Bucky--one who had loved their Emma from afar, too humble to see his worth, a fine warrior--returned them to their Emma, and there had been a fitting reunion. The one called Bucky went further in Sigurd's estimation by bringing them food as they became reacquainted with their Emma, checking to see that she had not worsened in their absence, and greeting the tiny creatures she had attempted to soothe herself with. They were cute, and loyal to her, and Torburn, ever the champion of the small and those weaker than himself, was immediately captivated. Sigurd sighed. It all seemed likely to disturb the peace he enjoyed with his Emma. And they settled into this new house, with a new routine, but always with their Emma. He was not best pleased when the one known as Steve weaseled himself back into her affection, but this time he seemed more sensible of her true worth, and Sigurd tolerated his presence for his Emma. At least she had not selected the one called Tony, who inflicted more pain from his own insecurity than could be accepted. Sigurd snorted. These humans. Most of them could use a good hound to model themselves upon.

But the reunion was short lived as the Steve fell in battle before he could truly make amends for his conduct. And she grieved, but this time healed and moved on; there was no way they could trick her this time with any sort of resurrection. And when she found love with the one known as Bucky, Sigurd and Torburn relaxed their vigilance. The Bucky was a strong protector who knew her worth to the last measure, and would treat her properly. And their Emma could heal the wounds to his soul.

They were happy together for many years; the little dogs were mortals and gone too fast, but the Bucky always made sure that Torburn had his small companions to look after until close to his end. And when their Emma passed from her physical shell, their bond splintered, but when it did not break entirely, he knew that she had accepted a place in a realm to which he might have admittance one day.

He and Torburn were returned to Asgard and immediately made a fuss; the Lady Sif, chosen by the hounds to give them her care, could not comfort them, and petitioned the king to grant them passage to Folkvangr. It was a sore spot with the Allfather that his favorite Emma had not chosen Valhalla, but the prince tactfully pointed out the easier nature of his lady mother's realm and suggested that Valhalla would have been a trial to her compassionate nature. It was an excuse that Odin could accept, and he liberated Sigurd and Torburn before their times, granting passage to Folkvangr. Bright was the day that they were reunited with their Emma, who was in the company of her warrior husbands, still leading them by example and strength while caring for them and acknowledging their worth. Time had eased Sigurd's feelings for the Steve, and he was ready to accept his devotion to his Emma. They had a nice dwelling with many good places for a hound to rest, leisure to attend to him and Torburn with play and skritches, places for hounds to explore, and more of their kind as well in the realm of Frigga.

The afterlife was nice, and quite a lot of fun, actually. The goddess Frigga had his Emma engaged in improving the landscape, so there was much digging to be done where they could help, and battles where he and Torburn could finally show their worth as warrior's companions, as his Emma's fears for their wellbeing were eased. You could only die permanently once, after all, and one's presence in Folkvangr indicated a final destination reached. The ranks of those in Valhalla soon learned to fear them, justly so. The Tony in particular got twitchy whenever he saw them, for although he never sought to harm their Emma, he sought to outclass her with his machines, which could not be permitted all the time. Sigurd knew his Emma wasn't terribly upset when the Tony 'died' in the occasional battles with the ranks of Folkvangr; it was only a little moment of blankness before a return to consciousness, after all. She minded much more then it was the Bucky, the Steve, or Sigurd or Torburn, even though she knew they would return to her, and of course, they were unhappy during the infrequent times when she 'died'. Torburn found a mate for himself from the ranks of those hounds who had perished in glorious battle, but Sigurd was content to await his Siglinde. It was as well that there was so much to interest a hound in the realm of the goddess, as their Emma's husbands had relaxed their human 'morals' regarding mating in their afterlife and his Emma spent a good portion of her leisure time satisfying them with this activity, anywhere in their dwelling, her workshop, and in secluded places outside as well. It seemed excessive, the amount of time she spent coupling, but perhaps he was just feeling deprived. Siglinde was a formidable hound and Death would not take her easily. Fortunately, his Emma had other responsibilities as well which allowed him to accompany her. Especially when a battle with Valhalla was planned or in the aftermath of their many defeats, occasionally Valhalla warriors would seek an advantage or revenge by attempting to 'kill' her, and Sigurd was not to be deprived of his Emma even for the brief period it took for her to return to sense. Those who dwelled in Valhalla were slow learners and it took time for them to realize that the satisfaction they gained was brief and not worth pursuing, as she, her hounds and her husbands made them regret their attacks each and every time. 

The spiderling known as Peter, his Emma's son, joined them, and his Emma's contentment--and therefore that of Sigurd and Torburn--was complete. Eternity was shaping up to be a paradise after all.


	11. One night in New York

Sigurd was indignant that the idiots at the two hotels would think he was vicious just because he was a big dog-like creature. These humans, so shallow. He could, of course, be quite formidable, but this was not a battle. Both he and his Emma were what she called "huffy" after the second refusal, but he had faith that his Emma still had some tricks up her sleeve. Indeed she did; she drove them into an underground parking structure and reluctantly fished out a key card. A security guard tried to give her some static at the front desk, but his Emma was having none of it. He woofed reproachfully at the guard, who seemed uneasy at the sight of him.

They rode the elevators, which were slower but more fun than the Bifrost, and went to a small room that smelled faintly of the spiderling. Sigurd's tail whacked the door hard enough to bounce it off the wall when he wagged it. He liked the spiderling. Then they went back upstairs, where his Emma showered and changed clothing. She seemed more relaxed once she was clean and attired nicely. He didn't pay much attention as she spoke with a woman he didn't recognize, but he was thrilled when his Emma took him to a groomers, where they cooed appropriately over his magnificence, washed their travels away and fluffed his fur with the warm wind thingie. They trimmed his claws for civilization, and he stood on his hind legs to give his Emma a hug in thanks. He tried not to do it often; he was much taller than she was this way, poor tiny thing, but her thoughtfulness deserved a special treat. Then she took him to meet her friend, who had also helped the Bucky. He pranced up to the Con, and while she said and did the right things, he felt uneasy. His Emma was genuinely glad to see the Con, affectionate, but the Con was not as effusive or... as genuine. She did seem to provide his Emma with what she needed in terms of the talking thing they did, but she seemed to be subtly emphasizing the shiny things she wore, the view out the large windows. Sigurd didn't care for it. All you could see was a bunch of building tops, a glint of water in the distance, and the discolored smudge his Emma called 'air pollution.' He was no frail bird to thrill to such a vista, the lack of informative scents and solid ground under his paws. His Emma, usually so perceptive, missed the clues and the shading of envy he heard in the Con's voice.

His Emma seemed lightened from the conversation at the end, however, and on the way home they went to a health place. Sigurd sneezed. He hated the smell of the people vets. His Emma came back to him without the hard thing on her arm that had been placed there after her last mission, and she seemed happier still. Sigurd was content; she finally was recovered from the injuries she had sustained. They went back upstairs in the elevator and she told him that she was going out for dinner and that the Tony would probably show up at some point but to be his usual excellent self. Sigurd mumbled an agreement, and was introduced to his personal chef. He accompanied this woman happily for his well-deserved meal.

Afterward, Sigurd stretched out on a sofa for a postprandial nap. He was shortly woken up by the Tony, who scratched his tummy and spoke nicely to him. He went back to sleep after these attentions ended. When he woke again, he heard the sound of the elevator doors and the laughing sound of his Emma's voice as she teased the Tony about something. The lights came up and she greeted him as the Tony offered an adult human beverage. They fenced, verbally; the Tony was trying to pressure her into returning sooner than she wanted, but his Emma deflected these attempts easily. He listened drowsily as she told of his capture of a purse snatcher in the smelly humid city that had the yummy fried dough treats. Then they sat in silence for a bit after the Tony finally gave up on his blandishments. When they started talking again, he teased his Emma, and that got Sigurd's attention more fully. The Tony was fundamentally lonely and wanted his Emma. Sigurd didn't understand why his Emma, normally clear-eyed and perceptive, never seemed to recognize when men wanted to mate with her. But the Tony's tentative steps toward seduction were interrupted by the arrival of the spiderling. Sigurd's head popped up and he padded over once his Emma had gotten the young one settled in to greet him. He got his ears scratched as the boy told his Emma and the Tony about an outing he had planned with a girl of his acquaintance. He hoped that the boy wouldn't attempt a mating; the spiderling was much less confident off his webs. But his Emma showed him some dance steps for social success, and the spiderling seemed more at ease when he left.

Then the Tony put on some music with an appropriate tempo, and Sigurd saw the dance in its entirety for the first time. It was so different from what they did on Asgard; this 'waltz' was smooth and flowing. The Tony was a showman and seemed to lead his Emma well. His Emma was not as skilled, but she was light on her feet and graceful. They made a lovely couple. His Emma's former paramour, the Steve, was well coordinated, but Sigurd felt that he was too self-conscious to be as good a dancer as the Tony was. Watching, Sigurd picked up on the hidden sexiness of the dance. Their bodies brushed against each other rather than pressing together and hands clasped or touching the body. They danced much closer than his Emma had done with the Peter, the Tony's leg between his Emma's to allow more speed and skill in the steps. Sigurd snorted to himself. It wouldn't be too hard for the Tony to ease his other leg in for one of the mating positions. The glide of the dance was mesmerizing; they were moving fast enough for it to be an exertion.

They paused after one of the songs for refreshment. "You're a fine dancer, Tony," his Emma said. The Tony knocked back the rest of his adult beverage and eyed her, taking her hand and spinning her before holding her to his body.

"I excel at other things, too, Emma," the Tony murmured into her ear, running his hand down to her hip. "Come to bed with me, let me show you." Their lips were almost touching. "I'll make you forget Rogers."

Sigurd rolled his eyes (a habit he'd picked up from his Emma) and his head flopped down between his paws. The Tony had been so close...but he'd pushed too hard. If he'd just stopped after the initial invitation, his Emma had been tempted.

His Emma sighed. And stepped away. "Oh, Tony. Don't put me in the middle of your pissing match with Steve."

"It's not about that," the Tony said, his voice sharpened with his pent-up desire.

"Kinda is. Sure, we could have fun in bed, you've been joking about it for a long time, but... You wouldn't do it immediately, you'd wait until he was vulnerable, then tell Steve that we'd slept together." (Why did the humans say they slept together? Sigurd wondered. From what he'd heard, there was precious little sleep. In fact, the matings seemed to be vigorous, energetic, and lengthy.) "I may be very angry with him, but I don't want to be used as a weapon in your on-again-off-again battle." She shook her head and briefly laid her hand on the Tony's cheek.

Sigurd could see that the Tony wanted to protest, but all three of them knew that he'd do just what she said he'd do. He wasn't well-equipped to fight his inner demons, and his Emma couldn't do it for him.

"I'm an emotional train wreck right now, Tony," she said softly. "I can't take it. And you deserve somebody whose loyalties aren't divided." She kissed his cheek lightly. "Good night." She left the room. The Tony sat heavily on one of the sofas, pushing his fingers over his eyes until his breathing evened out, then scrubbing his face with his palms. He picked up her drink and leaned back as he started sipping. Sigurd padded over and sat by the Tony. He didn't doubt for a second that his Emma had done the right thing, but the Tony was looking brittle and lost.

The Tony looked at him and sighed before starting to rub his head. "She's right," he sighed. "I would have told Rogers that we'd had sex in order to crush the competition, gone into detail for extra humiliation. She's too good for that." Sigurd sat with the Tony as he pressed the glass to his forehead, both of them ignoring the wetness that spilled from his eyes to his cheeks. Finally, with a final pat on the head, the Tony refilled the glass and made his way to his own room, fortunately down the other hall. Sigurd stood and gave a long, satisfying shake before trotting down to his Emma's room.

She was just getting into bed, and patted the coverlet. Sigurd hopped up and settled in, then looked at her inquiringly. She sighed. "If it had just been for one night, I might have gone with him. But he's too possessive, it wouldn't have been just one night, and he'd have rubbed Steve's face in it really thoroughly, and it would have been just one more thing between them. I feel like it would have been a contest between them, and I'd be just like the prize. It wouldn't be about a relationship. And besides, I still feel wrecked. I can't deal with these guys and their issues too." Sigurd muttered agreement. Those males should be lining up to apologize, offering to do what was necessary to ease her heart and mind rather than seeking to use them for their own advantage. He was ready to write off both the Steve and the Tony. That left the Bucky, but he was too close to the Steve, and anyway, he was carrying such a heavy burden as to almost break him. There was the dark prince, but he was not mature enough and besides, he was in that cell, with no privacy. Sigurd grumbled, dissatisfied with the choices his Emma had. She needed to get out more. Then she clicked off the light and Sigurd went to sleep.

The next morning, they went out for breakfast just as the Tony was walking briskly toward the door, dark glasses on although he was inside. He patted his Emma on the shoulder as they passed. "Gotta get back to work," he said conversationally. "Not all of us have the leisure to commune with nature." There was no sting in his words, Sigurd was glad to note. "See you when you get back."

"Ok, safe flight," his Emma said, surprised. The door closed behind him and she looked down at Sigurd, widening her eyes and raising her eyebrows. Sigurd was also surprised it hadn't been weird. They sat down to hearty breakfasts, finished the tasks his Emma had yet to accomplish, and they hit the road to go look at leaves. He was looking forward to playing in piles of them.


	12. Staffing issues

Nick Fury strode into the lofty chamber where he was expected for a meeting with SHIELD's founders. He hadn't been the Director for very long and had some questions. He found Chester Phillips at the table, glowering (it was his default expression) and Howard Stark, swinging his chair back and forth idly.

"Have a seat, Nick," Stark invited. "Peggy's on a conference call so there's a brief delay." Fury flipped his long leather coat where it had gotten tangled in his legs (it was a new acquisition and he wasn't used to the flappiness of it sometimes) and sat.

"How's your wife?" Phillips asked Stark.

"At some spa or other with friends," he said dismissively. "Can't see why, she doesn't work, there's not a lot that she needs to relax from, and it's not like she needs to lose any weight. She's kept herself up. She'll be back in a couple of days." Phillips changed the subject.

"And your son?" he inquired, and Stark huffed.

"If Anthony put half the drive he has for parties and pussy into the company, I'd be assured it would be in good hands when I eventually retire," he complained. "If he wasn't such a quick study, he wouldn't be able to keep up." He sighed. "Never thought somebody could be too smart, but that's the boy. He thinks his ability to pick things up quickly will let him slide on everything else, burns the candle at both ends, but he's actually got quite a flair for weapons design." His eyes narrowed. "He's got to settle down and shape up, though. There's more to the company than just the weapons."

"Yeah, I know all about your research division," Phillips said, hoping to cut him off. Stark brightened.

"Wait till you hear this latest," Howard said enthusiastically. Phillips rolled his eyes. "So I've got a new Acolyte--"

"That's so pretentious, your pet geniuses," Phillips jabbed. Stark shrugged, uncaring.

"Fresh back from grad school. The company was bidding on a desalination project and she was working on one of the key parts, the membrane for one of the stages. She's the youngest, with the least experience, but damned if she didn't keep the whole colossus on schedule. We were on deadline, she kept nudging everybody unobtrusively. I don't think she even consciously knew what she was doing. All intuitive. Every time I went down to check in, they'd made good progress. At one point there were two potential solutions, and they couldn't decide which one to try. She asked which would take the least time, pointing out that if it didn't work, they would still have time to try the other one, but potentially not the reverse, did it in a way that the group thought that it was deciding. Little things like that, common sense more than science, but she actually shepherded that project and we beat the deadline." He paused to gloat over the triumph. "Management qualities, no doubt. I'm grooming her to take over the research division when Fosberg retires. That way Tony can play with the weapons but the future of the research will be assured. There'll be plenty of time to get her and Tony to work together." He compressed his lips. "She'd probably be a better CEO, actually, if she'd allow herself to be dragged out of the lab, but it's going to be Tony's company one day."

That piqued Phillips' interest. "Why, don't they get along?" Nick's antenna went up.

"They've both got strong personalities, and Emma doesn't give an inch when she's entrenched in a position." He looked to the ceiling for support. "If not properly managed, they'll be like oil and water, but if they work well together, the company is going to be incredibly productive. If she takes over from Fosberg, by the time I'm ready to retire, she'll be entrenched, he'll have worked with her under my supervision, they'll be used to each other. She's more mature than he is, anyway. Doesn't help that she's a stunner and she doesn't pay him a bit of attention, the few times they've met at company functions. Anthony's not used to being ignored; I'm sure he's hit on her, but a woman like that doesn't want to be just another notch in somebody's bedpost. So he's taken a little dislike to her."

"Spare me from the Stark males and their libidos," a British voice said crisply. The assured click of her heels on the stone floor matched her voice. "But if she's this good, Howard, why are we just hearing about her now, and why haven't you recruited her yet for SHIELD? We need more women. And more scientists who will play ball. Hank Pym is being difficult, and besides, we need to think of the upcoming generations."

"She's not SHIELD material," Stark said. Defensively, Nick noted. "She's not good with gray, she's not an engineer either. And besides, I need her for my company."

"Her name?" Peggy Carter sat at the table.

"Emma Harrington," Howard said reluctantly. "But as I said, she doesn't deal with gray areas in morality. If it's not white or a very light gray, it goes on the black side and she won't touch it. I thought initially to put her in the weapons division, she's very creative, but she wouldn't be happy there and I wouldn't get the cream of her work. She's not a mass-destruction kind of gal, and she feels that we should be more restrictive in our sales. An idealist, wants to make the world better, but not starry-eyed about it." He sighed, real feeling in the sound. "She found out about Lab O, gave me hell about it in the politest way." And he'd felt, for the first time in ages, a little ashamed of his work, and had made certain evasions, a little stretching of the truth here and there, both to divert her but also to redeem himself a little in her opinion.

Phillips snorted. "Just like Rogers was," he said, not without a measure of affection. A small measure. "Probably for the best that you don't try to bring her in. We need realists as much as we need talent."

Peggy frowned. "Where do you have her working, then?"

"I just switched her to metals. There's been accidents in plastics, where she was really putting out good work with polymers. Some have resulted in serious mutations, we lost a fine scientist to a really weird skin mutation. I don't want to risk her in an accident. She's doing metals and coatings now, so the risk is way down." Howard brooded briefly. "Upgraded the hoods in the labs anyway, just to be safe, implemented stricter safety protocols."

"Anything look promising in O?" Phillips asked, approaching the purpose of the meeting.

"Well, we've made some changes to the SuperSoldier serum based on findings from the last mutations they studied, and I think that we've got the problem with the psychosis minimized," Howard said, brightening.

"Minimized," Peggy said, frowning again. "Not eliminated."

"This is the closest to Erskine's formula that we've managed so far," Howard said defensively. "The improved radiation generator is almost done too. The main thing is that the subjects who are given this formulation should be controllable. The information we got from that defector, the former Soviet who worked in the HYDRA facility in Siberia, was very helpful."

"How much serum do you have?" Phillips asked.

"Enough for five test subjects."

"They want it in Washington this weekend," Peggy said. "But you know that this is the end of the line for the serum research. There's been too much failure, no successes."

The end of the SHIELD and military funding, Stark mentally revised. If he wanted to divert Stark Tech resources, that was his business. They'd line up for the serum if he could produce results. Howard nodded. "We're going on vacation for the holiday, I can drop it off on the way."

"The army has relented and we can place two volunteers in the program," Phillips said. "Fury, do we have volunteers?"

"We do, we have three excellent candidates," Nick said, pushing three files across the table. Peggy flipped through them quickly and selected two, sliding the third file back to Fury and passing the two she'd chosen to Phillips, who scanned them and nodded.

"Ex-military, Special Forces," he said approvingly. "They have the training already and the mindset to be successful in today's world." There was a barb in his words, and Peggy narrowed her eyes.

"There's more to being successful than big biceps and a rule book," she said, the bite in her voice undisguised.

"Rogers was a skinny little freak who followed rules only when they suited him," he shot back and she looked furious. "These men won't need to be coddled by a woman."

"And he was damned successful when he was allowed to do real work," Howard said before Peggy could explode. "How many bases did Cap and the Commandos take out? There's room for creativity in SHIELD as much as there is for by-the-book operations. And everybody in this organization has their own contributions to make."

"So what's the timeline on this project?" Nick asked, inserting himself deftly into the conversation before the founders could really start squabbling again. He knew from experience that it was difficult to redirect the conversation once Captain America was brought in. Carter put him on a bit of a pedestal, and Phillips was still irked that Erskine had been allowed to select the initial test subject, selecting Rogers rather than the more able-bodied candidate he'd preferred. Howard usually tried to keep the peace on the subject as he had a more realistic view of Rogers and his abilities than Phillips, without the lingering lost-love sentiment of Carter, but it was better, Nick thought, to just cut the debate off at the pass before it devolved. His attempt at diversion was successful, and they ironed out their part of the operation. There was additional work done on other issues, and the meeting adjourned.

Nick strode from the chamber deep in thought. There had been a lot of food for thought in that meeting. He'd met Tony Stark, of course, and had a fairly good idea why he'd turned out as wild as was; not enough parenting, a weak but loving mother, and a distant, never-pleased father who constantly held up his wartime friend Captain America as a role model for his dilettante son. Nick shook his head at the thought. Young Stark needed a completely different approach if his father wanted to mold him into more tractability and responsibility--less example and more empathy, although any approach was good only to a certain point; eventually Tony would have to man up himself or waste all his potential. Howard's position in the SHIELD hierarchy was not inheritable, for which Nick was secretly glad. All he didn't need was a loose cannon to deal with.

And this Harrington woman. She might be a tool he could use himself, if nothing else, a lever to work on the younger Stark if necessary; SHIELD would continue its association with Stark's company even after Howard retired. Stark seemed protective of her in a fatherly way, which meant that perhaps his judgment wasn't completely accurate. SHIELD might be a good place for her after all if she could be brought to see the benefits of organization and their purpose. Possibly she could be brought around to using a personal relationship with Tony to control him, if he was that distracted by his dick, if Nick was very discreet in his manipulation. Careful management of information would keep her on task, and it wasn't as if SHIELD employed any stupid people; the geniuses weren't as plentiful as they were in Stark Tech, but they had them, and they had outstanding resources to fund research. She could be a significant asset in several respects. It wasn't as if research needed the... moral flexibility that the operatives had. His mind wandered a moment and he wondered how Barton was doing in Budapest. Well, Phil was due back on Monday and he'd task him with an assessment of Harrington then.

*****

In the chaos caused by Howard's death that weekend, Emma Harrington slipped Nick's mind. The serum packets Howard had been traveling with were not to be found, and he'd assigned Phil to investigate, not that he had much hope he'd turn up anything. If it was an assassination, it had been pretty perfect. He'd arranged to meet young Tony Stark and immediately had to revise his plans involving the younger man; Tony was angry and grieving and entirely unpredictable, three qualities not suited for work in a covert intelligence organization. Nick would have to back off and monitor him from a distance. Out of habit, he scanned the crowd and noticed a large contingent of Stark employees, all of whom looked distraught. His eye was caught by a slim young woman, thick dark hair pinned into an interesting knot at the nape of her neck, not conventionally beautiful , but lovely and appealing, who was possibly the only one in the church besides Tony who seemed devastated. Something about her tugged at his memory, but he ignored it as Carter and Phillips arrived.

*****

Harrington. The name caught Nick's attention as Phil briefed him on the reconciliation of the Avengers in Austria. It was familiar, and Phil paused patiently as he saw his boss's attention divert. It was a shame that he couldn't have worked more openly, Phil thought, but after Captain Rogers had spectacularly brought down three helicarriers and a big building and Natasha had put all the secrets out in the public domain, SHIELD had been pushed deep into the shadows, and he lacked the desire to explain to the Avengers how it was that he wasn't as dead as they thought he was. He'd had to rely on his agents to collect information, and they didn't know the principals like he did. Well, except the Harrington woman, who was still an unknown. All they really had on her was education and employment, followed by a gap where they couldn't find where she'd been.

"Stark," Nick said eventually.

"Tony?"

"No, Howard," Nick clarified. "The last meeting he attended, he talked about a protege of his with that name."

"She did work at Stark Tech," Phil said thoughtfully. "There was some sort of accident, Tony fired her, there was an enormous settlement." He shook his head. "Mismanagement of the whole situation," was his assessment. "She has some sort of health concerns due to the accident in the lab."

Nick looked at him sharply. "Mutation?" Phil nodded.

"The records are sealed, but Stark's own notes indicate that he directed the company to refuse her treatment. He's got some kind of a grudge against her. That helped to increase the settlement she got when she sued him. There was a note in there that perhaps he should have let her rot in Lab O, whatever that is, but that her condition wasn't significant in terms of research possibilities." That triggered Nick's memory and he searched for his hand-written notes from that time, studying them intently. He sighed.

"Boss?"

"Howard had great plans for her," he said with regret. "He's probably spinning in his grave right now." He paused, stomped down his sentiment. "What impressions did the agents have?"

"Shortly before Captain Rogers and Thor arrived at her home, she found a World War II-era bunker on her property. It had been a HYDRA facility, experimenting with the SuperSoldier serum." Nick raised an eyebrow. "Those two, Barton, and Natasha are the only ones who have actually met her. We had parabolic mikes on the house from all directions to monitor them once Thor and Captain Rogers reached out to Stark. She apparently made Cap's new shield, and from the conversation, it's something special, better even than the vibranium of the original." Nick's eyebrows rose. "So he has a positive impression of her, and the fact that he and Thor came to her for the summit indicates trust. She trusted them as well, enough to let them stay in her house in her presence and her absence. But because half the Avengers are on the run, she was deported, having to sell the house. Property records indicate that she'd just completed fairly extensive renovations." He shook his head. "So now she's probably less trusting and willing to help, so if you were looking at her as a potential asset, the climb is uphill. Romanov, when Stark introduced the subject, found her to be easy-going but reserved; she'd cleaned and stocked the pantry, so also a considerate host. Barton felt she was observant and polite. Thor is apparently a pretty crappy host, in case you were wondering. When he rescued Rogers and her, he apparently literally dropped her on the floor and forgot all about her, didn't bother to learn her name."

"And she was still willing to help?" Nick said in disbelief.

"Apparently more to help out Rogers than any gesture toward Thor," Phil said thoughtfully. "May thinks she responded to the symbol of Captain America, providing him assistance because she felt a responsibility to help when asked. The transcripts of her interrogation by the Austrian government show that she knew Cap was a fugitive, but that she felt he was morally in the right, which is why she let them use her house. So she's flexible in her thinking."

"To a point," Nick corrected. "If she's guided by morality rather than a more fluid situational response, it may not be anything we can use. Cap's a great example of how an agent can easily go astray given the right set of circumstances."

Phil smiled. "It is Skye's opinion that Steve went to her because he's interested."

"Well, well." Nick leaned back in his desk chair, a small smile curving his lips. "That could be useful."

"Boss." Phil's tone held a trace of disappointment. Nick waved his hand to acknowledge his concern. Phil's mancrush on Cap entertained him.

"I want more information on Harrington. Where is she now?"

"They put her on a flight to Paris, which connected to New York." Nick nodded thoughtfully.

"Track her down, find out where she is, what her resources are, if she has a plan. We have an opportunity here, especially if Rogers has an interest in her. She might provide a hold on him. And Stark might still be carrying whatever grudge he has for her. Howard thought highly enough of her abilities to plan on making her the director of his research division. With Stark set to expand Avenger Tech, I might be in the position to offer her some assistance."

"I don't know if he'd hire her or if she'd work for him again."

"SHIELD isn't without resources," Nick said, plotting. "And if she's ok for money, the hook for her might be the challenges that working for the Avengers can provide. So find her, monitor her, see if you can find out where she was during that gap between working for Stark and turning up in South America. Try to find out what makes her tick." He drummed his fingers on the desk for a moment. "As it happened, Tony reached out to me when the others were arrested. They'd agreed to reach out and find ways to compromise since the Sokovia Accords collapsed, get the Avengers back to their full strength, so I believe that I'll be in a position to influence matters; they asked about my willingness to manage the team. Hack Stark again, all information he has on Harrington, especially the stuff he isn't going to want to talk about. Company files, too. Find her online presence, hack it, see what you can turn up in her contacts. I want as complete a profile on her as possible." Phil nodded before rising and soundlessly leaving the office.


	13. Revised

Colin smiled at the PA who had brought him here and crossed over to the inhabitants of the lab. It was a weird setup; there were five sand tables and seven benches set into a circle and a different project was set up on each bench. Only one of the sand tables was in use; there was a puddle of metal awaiting attention. A man with interesting facial hair was leaning against one bench, waving his arm and gesturing at...was that...? Yes, it was a collection of action figures. The woman sitting on a metal stool looked like she could use a drink. She saw him and brightened up.

"Colin! It's been ages," she said, cutting the other man off as she hopped off the stool and gave him a brisk hug.

"Emma," he said warmly. "You're looking lovely." She snorted.

"James," the other man said, extending the hand he'd been waving.

"Stark." They shook hands. "What's going on with the dolls?" Colin asked.

"Action figures," Tony corrected. "Eight inch action figures. Promotions did a fan contest and they selected their eight favorite Avengers, so they're putting out a special edition collection."

"Who's in it?" Colin asked, genuinely interested. Asking for a friend. His son. Yep.

"Well, me," Tony preened briefly as Emma rolled her eyes. "Steve, Barnes, Thor, Natasha, Spiderman, Wanda, and Emma, here."

"Old school." Colin couldn't resist the poke.

"Oldies but goodies," Stark said flippantly. "So everybody has to approve their figure." Colin looked at the one off by itself. It was Emma as Paladin. He could see the problem immediately. The figure had absolutely enormous breasts.

"No," Emma said clearly. "It looks like there are two additional heads growing out of my chest. That just won't do." Tony paused, contemplating that image, then shook it off.

"But it's more cost efficient if they use one mold for all three of the females," Tony argued.

"Then you and all the rest of the guys should also look identical," she shot back. "Look at them. Everybody else's match what they actually look like. Spiderman is thin and aerodynamic, Thor is huge, Steve is shaped like a Dorito. I don't understand why they have to cheap out on the women. Plus I want a dog." Tony rolled his eyes. "Sigurd and Torburn are always popular, and they never get included. I bet my figure would sell a lot more if at least one dog is added." Tony grumbled and muttered, then gave up and collected the little herd of dolls and made for the door.

"Quite a setup you've got here," Colin said, looking around in admiration. "I thought you were going to retire, that's what you said last time I saw you. What, three years ago?"

She made a face. "I tried it once. Lasted twenty-seven days before I was bored out of my mind. Besides, there's still a need for what I can do."

"Mind if we talk about that on the record?"

"Let's go," she said immediately, and took him over to a corner of the workshop where there was a desk with a transparent computer screen and two comfortable chairs. "I can't believe it's been twenty years since you published your first book."

"Time flies," Colin said, grinning. "It's the only book I've written that's never gone out of print. And the Avengers continue to fascinate people."

"God knows why,' Emma said wryly. "We're just a bunch of weirdos and misfits in funny clothes."

"The funny costumes will get them every time," Colin teased. She laughed. "A lot's happened since the book was first published. Mind if I record?" She nodded assent.

"So I suppose the biggest thing was that pretty decisive defeat of the Skrulls and the Kree that last invasion attempt."

"We got them good," she acknowledged. "But it would be a mistake to believe they're been permanently driven away. We believe that what we did was to buy a big chunk of time, but they'll be back when they've figured out some work-arounds."

"What did you do?" Colin asked, genuinely curious.

"We infiltrated one ship from each empire, really--you should excuse the language--fucked with their computers as a distraction, and released chemical agents into their atmospheric controls. Those bioweapons were really a piece of art," she said frowning. "They worked quickly to infect the hosts, have a short but highly hostile life expectancy, and break down quickly, even in stasis."

"What do they do?"

"The one for the Skrulls destabilizes their skin to the point where they can't hold their form. They cycle through whatever forms they've taken, rapidly, which exhausts them metabolically and kills them. The one for the Kree coagulates their blood in the blood vessels." She frowned. "It was a hard decision, just to research and develop these weapons," she said. "But we had to do something. Every invasion attempt kept getting worse."

"It's not pretty," Colin acknowledged. "But we're still free, so while it might have been a difficult moral choice, I'm not alone in thinking it was worth it."

"Well, that wasn't just the Avengers' doing, or even primarily us," Emma said. "The Justice League and the X-Men, along with several governments, sent scientists to collaborate." She didn't mention that the weapon for the Skrulls had been based in a truth serum she'd developed and perfected. Her friend Hank McCoy had introduced the relevant stage of the formula without any explanation; everybody'd assumed he'd developed it.

"The invasions have cost you a lot on a personal level," Colin noted.

She nodded. "But I'm not the only person who has lost someone they love due to the Kree and Skrulls," she said immediately. "I'm just one of the most visible. And I wasn't the only person who lost somebody important when Steve was killed. He was a very admired and loved person on our team, and to the public in general."

"It was widely published how you stepped up when Steve went down," Colin noted. "My colleague at the Bugle, Dirk Taylor, captured it with a long lens on his camera, won the Pulitzer for that shot of you standing over Barnes, guarding him." The photograph had shown Bucky slumped over the pool of blood where his friend had fallen. It showed his face, empty and numb with grief, and the wild, white-hot rage in Emma's blood-splashed face as she emptied her magazine into an unseen invader. Both of them sat in silence awhile. "And the funeral. How did that come together? It was widely reported that it was the most attended funeral ever."

"Well, if it had been up to me, there would have been a cremation and a simple, private memorial service. But the day after the battle, the government sent a couple of Army officers to discuss that with me. And the results were what you saw."

Colin looked askance at her. "It couldn't have been that straightforward."

Emma smiled. "Well, I had some conditions, and in exchange for a few things, like the Avengers carrying the casket to the grave, I agreed to release Steve's body and take part in the funeral." She bit her lip. "It was difficult to do. I would have preferred to grieve privately, just with those who knew him too. The shorter funeral service helped, and walking behind the casket gave me something to do, a focus, rather than curling up in bed and sobbing. But Steve was a symbol. He knew it, and so did the rest of us, so it was appropriate that there was public mourning and a public funeral. The most important concession that I got was paperwork that affirms that when it's time, Bucky will be buried right next to Steve. They wanted to make a small monument with an eternal flame, but Steve didn't want that. He's in Arlington surrounded by other heroes, which is fitting, and his best friend and comrade in arms will be by him eventually. That's important to me, and it would have been important to Steve."

"His grave is the most popular in the cemetery. They estimate that about three quarters of the visitors come to see it." Emma nodded.

"For awhile, the grave was covered in flowers all the time, two and three bouquets deep, and it was really difficult for the groundskeepers to deal with. Every day there would be bouquets and stuffed animals. So I asked people who wanted to show their respect if they would donate to veterans' causes instead. There's a secured collection box nearby. That way, people can actually take action that connects us all and support a cause that was very close to his heart, and no donation is too small. I personally have seen little kids put in a few coins and it means a lot to me that they would spend their own money to support the cause of a man they are too young to have known. It's been well over a decade since Steve died, and in that time since we set up that collection box, we have never donated less than half a million dollars a year, and that was the first year, when it was set up in September. Each year since, we've funneled at least two million to veterans' causes. It helps that the symbol, Captain America, has been continued, and continues to be distinguished by two very fine successors. Both Bucky and Sam have done Steve proud. Sam is just outstanding, and I'm very grateful that he took up the shield to continue Steve's legacy. They were good friends, and Sam understood him well, being a combat veteran himself."

Colin James: So what was it like to be asked to be Captain America?

Sam Wilson: Kind of terrifying, actually. Lot to live up to. Bucky helped out immensely by showing that the ideals of Captain America could still be up held with a different person behind the shield. He made it a lot easier for me, but both he and Steve cast a long shadow. I try to live up to their examples every day. But, you know, with my own flair. (smirks) But when Emma asked, I couldn't say no.

CJ: What does it mean to you to pick up the shield? How has that changed your life?

SW: I feel like it was an immense gesture of trust, that I was somehow worthy. Captain America is a symbol of what is best about our country. And right now, part of Cap's duties is to balance out Iron Man. Man, keeping Tony in check sometimes is a full-time job. (James laughs.) But part of what Steve did was to keep the peace in the Avengers, keep us cohesive and focused, and so that's part of my job too. On a personal level, it doesn't leave much time for dating, and so far it's scared off the ladies from making a commitment. (Wilson frowns.) Part of that is because it's so hazardous, but part of that is also because of Emma. Their marriage was solid, they were real partners, and one woman said to me that she didn't feel like she could live up to that. (snorts) I tried to tell her I didn't expect her to kill aliens over my dead body, but that didn't go over so well. (sighs) I want my own relationship, not theirs, and besides, Emma can be a handful. (James grins) But I do want a strong woman who can commit to both me and my cause, and who I can commit myself to as well. And part of that is an understanding that while I can physically do it, I'm going to be fulfilling this role, adding to the legacy before passing it on to the next veteran. And that's a lot to ask from somebody.

CJ: Some people have said they'd like to see a woman getting the chance next.

SW: I have no objection to that. Emma could have done it, but her abilities and skills wouldn't have been used, and besides, she said she was too old. Plus she's the one who really pushed for it to be a veteran behind the shield. A woman would add new dimensions to the role, and I think it would be good for little girls to have another role model. But hopefully that's a ways off.

Bucky walked in. "Hey, doll, do you have any cookies?" he asked after kissing his wife. She gave him a key, which he used on a cabinet by her desk and removed a TARDIS cookie jar. The little light and sound effects activated and Bucky grabbed three fat, chewy chocolate crinkles. Politely, Emma offered the jar to Colin, who, after a wary glance at Bucky, took one. They were delicious. Powdered sugar sifted down over Bucky's black t shirt, and Emma fondly brushed it away as Bucky chewed blissfully. He captured her hand and held it as he ate his snack, leaning on her desk.

"Tony and Peter raid the cookie jar too much," Emma explained to Colin. "Had to lock it up, otherwise I have to bake every other day."

"Well, now that you're both here, I can ask. When I interviewed you guys and Steve for the book, you were thick as thieves and swore that there wasn't anything between you but friendship."

"I was married to Steve at the time, so there wasn't anything else between me and Bucky," Emma pointed out. "I would have never cheated on Steve, and Bucky never would have blown up his friendship."

Bucky swallowed. "I lied," he said peacefully. "I had a crush on Emma from the first time I met her and it progressed from there, but she and Steve were together, and they had a very strong relationship. I didn't feel like I deserved her, anyway. I was content to be her friend, because she's right, I never would have risked Steve's friendship. So while friendship was all there was at time, it's not all I felt."

Colin's brow creased. "Did he know?"

"Yeah," Bucky said simply. Emma stared at him. "When he was dying that time at the old facility in Seattle, he told me to take care of her if the procedure didn't work, that he wanted both of us to be happy. The way he said it tipped me off. It obviously wasn't something either of us wanted to talk about in detail."

"I can see where that's not something you can just sit down with beer and hash it out," Colin allowed.

"No. There wasn't anything to say, anyway. She had made her choice, and I respected that and her." He looked at his wife, concern for what she might think in his eyes. She just shook her head.

"You guys," she said, and they all left it at that. She wrapped another couple of cookies in a paper towel from the dispenser by the sink, and he kissed her once more before leaving with his loot.

"You don't have to answer this," Colin said after a moment. "But what do you think would have happened if Steve hadn't been killed?"

"Well, that's hard to say," she said, frowning. "But Steve and Bucky's friendship would have still have been a priority. I don't think you understand what Bucky was like inside, back then. He felt dirty, loathsome, beyond redemption after what he was forced to become. Natalia once said that he'd done their dirty work for fifty years. That left twenty years, more or less, off and on where he resisted and fought them. That's amazing to me. I couldn't have done it. It wasn't just to preserve his life that they kept sticking him in cryo. They learned that it was dangerous to keep him out of stasis too long when he wasn't working. His conditioning would break down. They had to keep wiping his mind." Her face sagged. "Nick showed me a recording HYDRA'd made of one of his debriefing sessions once. The procedure was extremely painful. They tortured him every time they did it. I have no idea how he managed to retain any of his memory. But the wiping was aimed at the memories that would have interfered with his ability to do the work they gave him. Because experience is valuable, he kept the memories of his missions. So he had to relearn what it was like to make choices, to discover what he liked to eat, for example, when he finally broke free. Seventy years with no name and no personality, just the ugliest memories." She shook her head. "The Winter Soldier name, that came from other people in the intelligence and espionage game. They just called him the asset. A tool they could use to achieve their ends, not a person. When I first knew him, he was just hanging in there. He didn't have a lot of hope. If not for Steve, I think he'd have given up. But he didn't want to disappoint him, not after all Steve went through to help him. So he persevered. And after a titanic amount of work, he's gotten a lot better. He's learned that he has worth, that he is valued. But what he went through hasn't really left him; I don't think a lifetime is enough to smooth away those scars. It took a lot of time and perseverance to make him see that he didn't need to punish himself for what happened. So I wouldn't have done anything to jeopardize that friendship. I think our marriage would have lasted, but you never know, Steve and I were on and off sometimes, and even if it had ended, I wouldn't have come between them. So I can safely say that if Steve hadn't died, I would not be with Bucky. I would still be friends with him, and I would be doing everything I could for him, though. Because Bucky is a priority for me, just as he was with Steve."

"But this isn't a pity thing."

Emma laughed. "Absolutely not. I had an attraction to Bucky too, between when Steve sort of died the first time and when we got back together again. But I didn't act on it. Part of it was that he was still seeing a therapist and that was more than enough for him to work on. I wouldn't have been a friend if I'd have acted on my attraction then. And then Steve and I drew closer again. I really did love him. When he was killed, Bucky and I had to step away from each other. We were both mourning, and it was too hard to figure out how to be friends when we were so used to relating to each other with Steve in the equation. And he took up the persona of Captain America, and that half-killed me. I kept waiting for somebody to come in and tell me that he'd gone down on some mission or other and that revival wasn't possible. (shudder) I was glad that he handed it off to Sam once he'd established that the symbol would endure even after Steve died. And that stint as Cap helped him too. He began to truly realize what kind of a man he was, that he had strengths and what they were, and began to understand why people were looking up to him. And people saw him differently. It made them reassess the Winter Soldier, after he became Captain America. After that, there was time to become friends, just the two of us. I had to move after Steve, and he ended up buying the house next door to me. You know what real estate's been like since the invasions started, it's gotten pretty affordable and available. So we started to hang out regularly again, and a couple years after Steve, one of my friends offered to set me up. She's a wonderful person, but let's just say she's not the best match maker." Emma chortled. "So I mentioned this to Bucky, and he immediately asked me out." Her smile softened. "After that, it wasn't long before we got married. There was no reason to wait. And this time my husband is not out in the field, which is a big relief to me. We've had over a decade together and I hope for many more years with him. I've been very lucky."

The door opened. "I'm trusting you to... handle the information appropriately," she said sternly to Colin, who, not for the first time, felt a little cowed by her.

"You have nothing to worry about," he assured her as Peter Parker came in.

"Hi, Emma," he said cheerfully, dumping a pile of folders on her desk. "Hey, Colin."

"For a paperless office, we seem to still be using a lot of sacrificed trees," she said cuttingly.

"Harder to hack, you know that," Peter said blithely. "Do you have any cookies?"

She sighed and gave him the key. "Hey," he said enthusiastically.

"And now I have to find a new spot," she muttered, and he laughed, helping himself. Colin edged in and scored two cookies.

"So," he said tactlessly, "What's it like being Spiderman?" And then wished immediately that he'd kept his mouth shut. Emma had her desk drawer open in a flash, pushing away and came smoothly to her feet with the tension that indicated she was ready to throw the big knife in her hand. She glared at him. Screw age, the Paladin was still frighteningly formidable.

"Whoa, there, mom!" Peter said instantly. "For god's sake, don't kill him, people know he's here." His attempt at humor fell flat. "Come on, put that down," he said, trying to tug the knife away. She slid away, but kept Colin within easy striking distance. Colin would have peed himself if there'd been anything in his bladder.

"I'm not going to out him," he said quickly. "First of all, there's the law against revealing secret identities, and it's just gotten stiffer since you used it on Stark and Romanova. Second, if I did, I would be torching professional relationships that also matter to me on a personal level, and no source will work with me again. So yeah, I shouldn't have said that, but I have no intent or desire to do anything with the knowledge. Especially since he's got a family."

Emma relaxed after a moment, placing the knife back in the desk drawer and sitting in the chair again. But her ease was gone. Her dogs, who had been sleeping in the big dog beds in the corners of the large labs, padded over, thumping down to sit between Emma and Peter and Colin. The gray one, Sigurd, sat in such a way as to keep Emma in her chair while keeping an eye on him, and brown Torburn kept Peter at his back, the better to defend him. Colin was completely cowed.

"It's a lot less fun since I became a dad," Peter said to Colin.

"This is strictly off the record," Colin said at once.

"You can use it if I'm outed in an unrelated event," Peter offered. Emma looked at him through narrowed eyes but remained silent.

"I saw the resemblance when I was looking at a photograph of him and Stark coming out of a meeting together," Colin said to her. "And it looked like he had a bit of a black eye, and Spiderman had been popped in the face the night before by the Green Goblin. After that, I just watched. They have the same build, the same way of moving."

"I know, I need to be more careful," Peter said ruefully when Emma opened her mouth. "Maybe I'll have Costuming take a second look." Emma closed her mouth and sat silently. The room temperature seemed to have dropped.

"How old were you when you became Spiderman?" Colin asked, unable to help himself.

"Fifteen," Peter said. "Almost fifteen."

"So you were underage in Leipzig?" Colin's mouth hung open.

"Yep," Peter confirmed, not showing off, but not apologizing for it either. "Once Mom joined up, she managed to keep me out of most of the major actions the Avengers had, tried to get me to quit being a street hero until I turned eighteen. I thought I knew better," he shrugged. "And for the most part, even looking back, I wasn't especially reckless," he defended himself. "But now I've got a daughter the same age, I really see Emma's point."

"Is that why you call Emma 'Mom'?"

"Pretty much. From the start, as soon as she came on board with the Avengers, she was kind to me, made a real effort to get to know me, looked out for me. And this is not any kind of a slam on my aunt, who raised me, or the other Avengers, who were always nice. But Emma went the extra distance, knew from the beginning, almost, about this secret, and she took care of me. Aunt May just found out about it, actually." Peter rubbed his head. "It's really hurt her and she's not speaking to any of us right now. I feel terrible about it, but if I'd told her from the beginning, she'd have made me stop. And I have these abilities. Bad things are on me if I don't try to do something about them." Colin nodded. "But it wasn't until the mission in Virginia that she really felt like my mom. We were investigating a lead on a college campus and posed as mother and son. She acted just like my friends' moms did--hugs, she pushed hair out of my eyes, talked about wanting to make sure I had the best education I could get. I was kind of moody because I wanted that for myself, in reality. And Emma knew about both sides of my life, she helped me navigate the nightmare of high school too. So we had a talk in the car." He looked over at Emma and smiled a little; Colin could see in that expression the alienation and isolation that Peter must have felt at the time. Emma sighed and got to her feet, holding her arms open. Peter went over, stepping around Sigurd, for a long hug.

"You're killing me, kid," she sighed.

When the hug ended, they both stayed, leaning against the desk, shoulders touching. "Tony's made most of my suits and tech, but Mom makes sure I have everything else I need to succeed as Spiderman. She met the street heroes I associated with when I was just starting out, you know, evaluating their suitability, Daredevil, Doctor Strange, Luke Cage, the others. Deadpool was a bit much for her." Emma laughed. "But she took the time to get to know him, and predictably, once she saw the damage behind the flip exterior, she collected him too."

"What?" Colin asked, puzzled.

Peter laughed. "I don't remember who it was who said it, it was either Steve or Bucky, but they said that Emma collects damaged people like a kid helping wounded animals. She likes to fix things. It's true." Colin nodded silently. "She'd let us go back to the wild once we get better, but we just stay put. Plus, she's always got goodies. I don't know how Dad doesn't look like an eight ball."

"He's got that metabolism, honey," Emma sighed.

"So Bucky's like your dad?" Colin asked. Peter nodded.

"He's been kind of a reclamation project for a lot of us," Peter said tactlessly, and his mom swatted him. He shrugged. "You can't see somebody in that much pain and not want to help. But it's true I was too much in awe to really do anything for a long time. Plus, I was just a kid. Who's going to get help from a kid?"

"You helped a lot," his mother disagreed, straightening the lapel of his jacket. "It was helpful that you treated him with respect, it illustrated to him that he was worthy of that. You took his advice when he offered it, you trained with him--"

"My hand to hand got a lot better," Peter nodded.

"You didn't treat him like a monster."

"He's not," Peter said instantly. "He's a hero." Emma smiled.

"And he's close to your family--your wife and daughter?"

Peter smiled. "MJ is closer to him than she is to her own dad. Bucky treats her like a daughter, and my daughter has him wrapped around her little finger." Peter chortled. "When he babysat her, he'd do the tea parties, the dress up, anything she wanted. No complaint."

Emma was also smiling. "There are pictures. The Winter Soldier in a tiara. Sitting at a little table with a tiny teacup. She made him stick out his pinky. Sometimes she painted his nails pink. When they're together, I have a mental image of Bucky as a black-clad teddy bear." Colin choked. "When she got older, he started teaching her self-defense. She can kick just about anybody's ass."

"So she doesn't have any mutations?"

"The doctors say they would have expressed themselves by now, so it looks like we're free and clear," Peter said, looking vastly relieved.

"So only one superhero in the house."

Peter scowled. "She wants to be a hero too, and unfortunately, from my perspective, there are too many examples of regular people who have been successful. But she hasn't practiced like Hawkeye, although he's given her archery lessons. My big fear is that she'll do a stint in the armed forces and pester to take over when Sam retires as Cap." Emma rubbed her eyes. "But Tony is her Uncle Tony, and he's not excited about her being an Avenger either. It's not because she's a girl, it's just that I think he's getting tired of putting the people he cares about in harms' way. She floated the idea of taking up Bucky's mantle as the Winter Soldier--I think mostly because it's her grandpa, she doesn't really know the reality behind it-- and it's the one time I have seen him really lose his shit. The benefit was that she dropped that topic like a nuclear core . She's probably still got third degree burns from it, if we're carrying the metaphor forward."

"So, Emma, last thoughts. Any regrets? Are there still things you want to accomplish?"

She took the time to organize her thoughts. "Overall, I'd say I'm satisfied with my life. It's not at all what I thought it would be when I was a kid, but on the other hand, at that time superheroes were only found in the comics or on TV. I have regrets, sure, who doesn't? But on the whole, the things I regret are more than matched by what I've been able to accomplish." She frowned. "People like to screw up their courage and ask if I regret not having kids. The short answer is overall, no. When Steve and I were first together, the idea of having kids with him was very powerful, and I had a chance to have kids with him, but decided against it. But the reality is that it's difficult for kids to have one superhero parent, let alone two." Peter nodded. "Look around; not many of us have kids. It's just too hazardous. And I am also not good with puke or pee or poop." She made a face and Peter laughed.

"She really isn't,' he confirmed. "Fortunately, Bucky doesn't mind as much, so when they were babysitting, he took care of that. Mom's a sympathetic puker," he said, nudging her. She rolled her eyes. "Somebody gets sick, she gets sick too in solidarity."

"So Pete was an excellent choice, from my perspective," she said briskly. "He was well past the age where he had diapers by the time I got my hands on him. It is very satisfying to be able to help a younger person and provide guidance, and Peter's proof that I didn't have to give birth to him to love him like a son. I've been very fortunate in my husbands, I have work that never fails to engage me, and the bad times in my life make me appreciate the good times more fully. I've seen other worlds, and what I've learned overall is that there are basic similarities across all sorts of life forms. And I have a legacy that extends past just a few people. So yeah, I'm satisfied with my life. It's been fulfilling. I'm not ready to stop, though. There's still work to accomplish, and I'm not ready to be put out to pasture yet." She smiled at Colin. "So call me in twenty years when you want to update your book again and we can revisit this."

"'Never give up, never surrender'," Colin mumbled, and she laughed.

*****

Introduction

When my publisher approached me about updating my book about the Avengers, initially, I wasn't very enthusiastic. There was something very special about that team, that group of individuals, and I didn't feel the need to revisit the subject. The book stood, I believed, as historical record of a particular point in time.

What changed my mind? Well, not one specific event. I reread the book and felt the same admiration I had when I wrote the book. The women and men described in those pages are still compelling. There was sadness too, for those we have lost, Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff. This is not to say that the Avengers are diminished; to the contrary, they continue to be a vibrant, active group who take their responsibilities to the average citizen very seriously. The passage of time has given individual Avengers additional clarity about themselves and their actions, and I slowly realized that there are still stories to be told. With the passage of time, information is no longer as sensitive as it was before, and government documents have become unclassified. This is particularly important as it relates to the actions of former Secretary of State Ross and his incarceration of those on Team Cap following the Sokovia Accords, particularly of Wanda Maximoff, the actions of the government to conscript heroes in the face of the Kree-Skrull invasion, and the threats that the military made to Emma Harrington regarding her abilities.

The loss of Steve Rogers hit us all hard. Captain America, the Sentinel of Liberty, shot down in his prime, defending us, right in front of his devoted wife. How did she cope with his loss? How did his best friend, Bucky Barnes? What happened to that close-knit friendship?

Twenty years is a long time in superhero years. In addition to the loss of Captain Rogers, the Black Widow developed cancers that were believed to be related to the treatments she was subjected to in the Soviet Union; they spread with a frightening speed and she died within three months of her initial diagnosis. There was nothing that could be done. Her devoted partner, the legendary archer Hawkeye, retired, the heart gone out of him. His mantle has passed to a young woman whom he praises as the best bowman he's ever seen. Colonel Rhodes is considering retirement, the damage he suffered at Leipzig has been compounded by time and even with the best assistive technology that Tony Stark can develop, it is becoming too difficult to be War Machine.

But while Emma may be older and wiser, she's lost none of her drive and her work ethic is as strong as ever. Retirement didn't suit her, so she returned as an Avenger emeritus, still fulfilling the metal needs of the team. Her husband, the former Winter Soldier and Captain America, Bucky Barnes is the weapons master and combat trainer; no rust on him. Sam Wilson, the former Falcon and current Captain America, describes what it was like to pick up the shield. Thor spends more time on Asgard than on Earth, but he shows up for the important missions. His brother Loki, once reviled for leading the Chitauri invasion, has since redeemed himself and earned a PhD in history and education. He is the history department chair at Columbia and the world's premier expert on alien cultures. Tony Stark's energy is undiminished, his fertile imagination hasn't wavered, and his company is one of the top five most successful companies in the world. And as always, the Avengers are first in his heart and he devotes himself to keeping them as safe and equipped as possible. After so many years, his partnership with Harrington is well established, and although they continue to bicker amicably, she continues to help him take his ideas and innovations from imagination to concrete reality.

And there's the new generation. Along with the new Hawkeye, there's Spiderman, who is being groomed to lead the team when Tony Stark steps down. The leadership of the team has always been a duality between Cap and Iron Man, and Spiderman's more laid-back approach signals another change to the team.

It's not just the individuals who have changed; circumstances, attitudes, and events have all put their marks on the current climate. You'll find out why Harrington doesn't believe the Kree and Skrulls are gone forever and why the team continues to work closely with street-level heroes, the Justice League, and the X-Men.

It is my hope that this second edition provides valuable insights into why somebody would want to be a hero in addition to the motivations and actions of the Avengers. It's important to note the sacrifices they have made, but at the same time, what they have gained from their work is also important. I enjoyed catching up with the people I've spent so much time studying; it is my further hope that you will too.

\--CJ


	14. Mother's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story concerns Alex Barnes, the main character in Legend's Apprentice, Legend, Legendary, and follows the events in those books.

I leaned forward slightly, watching the woman in the bed. She was old, well into her 90's. Her hair was short and stylish and had a defiant pink streak that was startling against the steel gray. The monitors at the head of the bed beeped quietly. Her skin tone was still warm, though lightened with age. She looked fragile, her skin draped artfully over her bones. There was an IV line in her delicate, frail right arm; her wedding band, too large for her finger, encircled her thumb instead. I smiled. 

She opened her eyes suddenly and winced, pressing her hand to her midsection where the cancer that was consuming her had started in her liver. Her head turned, and her startling blue eyes drilled into mine. "Mom?" she rasped, looking a little startled.

"Hi, baby," I said.

"Damn, you almost gave me a heart attack. You look good for a dead person," she said, coughing a laugh. I couldn't help but smile a little. "I'm dying, aren't I? Like, imminently."

"Yes," I confirmed. "That's why I'm here, Martha. I didn't want you to be alone."

She nodded. "I can't honestly say it won't be a relief. Were you there for Xander too?"

"I was, but he died in his sleep. I only got a few words after."

"So... what comes next?"

"Well, soon, your spirit's going to leave your body and an avatar is going to show up to take you someplace else. It won't hurt, and it's not scary, although there's some disorientation."

"I don't suppose you're my avatar?" She coughed again.

"I'm sorry, baby, I wish I was. But I'm not here for you."

"Do you represent somebody?"

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head. "Odin. I'm a valkyrie."

She grinned. "Such a bad ass. So is dad with you? Or anybody?"

"I don't know where dad is, unfortunately, or your grandparents, or Uncle J or your cousins or your brother, for that matter." I sighed. "But Uncle Bucky and Emma are in Folkvangr with their friend Steve Rogers, and your godfather Tony is in Valhalla with me. I see Thor, Sif, and Loki sometimes."

She thought about this and was about to speak when a nurse came in for a check. "Who were you talking to, Martha?" she asked as she moved with quick, capable movements.

"My mother," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to die soon." The nurse looked startled, glancing around, but couldn't see me. The only reason that Martha could was because her life was coming to a close.

"Don't be in a hurry to leave us," the nurse said finally, probably wondering if Martha was losing it.

"You've been a great nurse, Ellen, and you've made my time here much...nicer than I anticipated. But I've had it with this cancer. Thank you for your care," she said, touching the nurse's hand lightly.

"Well, I thought that Martha Wayne-Coulson would be much more of a diva," the nurse said, smiling at her. "Instead I got only a little tyrant." Martha laughed, then coughed. "Take it easy, and I'll be back around in a couple hours." The nurse moved quietly to the door and her next patient.

"She's quite a gifted nurse," Martha remarked. "I left her a little something in my will." She looked at me again. "So tell me what you've been up to in Valhalla. What's it like? What's Odin like?"

So I told her, from my modest start to finding my uncle again, becoming a valkyrie, my role in the labor uprising, all of it, although I skimmed over the more difficult parts and omitted details about Tony. "And you know how Thor is?"

She nodded. "He's a lot of fun, although being a king is a heavy responsibility."

"Yeah. Well, Odin's not like that." I rolled my eyes. "But he's being dragged, kicking and screaming, into the twentieth century."

"But it's the twenty-first century," she pointed out.

"Oh, honey, it's enough of a struggle to get him into the twentieth century. He wouldn't listen to me, so I had Steve Rogers lecture him about command responsibility, and educating him on human rights is taking a fair amount of time and a huge expenditure of effort. It was a lot easier with Frigga, but Loki says she was always more reasonable. Of course, she's a woman too." We nodded.

"So you're together with my godfather?" she asked, turning that over in her head.

"Well, your dad isn't there," I said, and she lifted her hand.

"I'm not mad, it just seems weird. I never got that kind of vibe from him, that he was interested in you."

"Didn't happen until we were there awhile," I said. "Things changed. The age difference is gone, I don't work for him. He's changed a lot. He's a lot calmer these days, now that he doesn't have so much responsibility on his shoulders."

"Well, dad would want you to be happy," she said. "I can't imagine Tony as anything less than tightly wound, but I imagine that death has a way of changing priorities."

"It does, and there's not as much tech to mess with, so he's finding other interests. And I want your dad to be happy too," I said with a sigh. "But I think eventually that we'll see each other again." And I explained my hypothesis about how the afterlifes would come together to fight one last battle; Ragnorak in Valhalla and Folkvangr.

"I sure hope you're right, Mom," she said. "Because this time is too short." Her eyes filled with tears. "I missed you. A lot."

"Not a day goes by that I don't think of you and Xander," I said truthfully. I missed Damian all the time, but I longed to see my kids. She quickly caught me up on my grandkids and their kids, the latest on the business, which had thrived under her direction. 

"You are utterly your father's daughter," I said with pride. "I'm sure he'd be as proud of you as I am."

"I hope so, Mom, I've tried to do you both proud."

"You and your brother were my greatest accomplishment," I said gently. "I could never not be proud of you."

"You were the best mom," she said. "I know I spent more time with dad, but it wasn't because I didn't love you," she said hastily. "I want you to make sure you know that. You were a real inspiration to me. Hard act to follow."

"Oh, baby, I never doubted it. You were a chip off the old block. Bruce said you were so much like your dad that it was scary." I smiled at her. "He was right. Both of you so exceptionally talented."

"If I see dad, I'll be sure to let him know how you are," she said suddenly.

"I do hope you end up somewhere where you know somebody," I said, anxious for her. "But I know you'll do well no matter where you are. If you see your dad or anybody else, pass on my love. I miss you all."

"You said that when I went to kindergarten," she said. "'I know you'll do well, Martha. I have confidence in you,'" she murmured. "And then I knew I was going to be ok. Every time I started someplace new I remembered that and it gave me courage." She shivered suddenly. "I'm getting cold, Mommy. I don't think it will be long now."

She was right. We reminisced until she started gasping for air. "My love to everybody," she mumbled, then the monitors flatlined. After a moment, my wonderful daughter's soul separated from her body and she got up, graceful as she ever was, just as treasured as the day she was born. An avatar winked into the room, studied her, nodded at me, and extended its hand.

"I love you, Martha. Be happy," I told her, and she grinned, the same carefree smile she flashed when she went away to college, when she told me that she was pregnant with her first child.

"Love you too, Mom. Don't cause too much trouble." And with that, they were gone. I sat there as the nurses rushed in, a doctor not far behind. But there was a do not resuscitate order, and the doctor called the time of death. She left, and the nurses disconnected the monitors and closed her eyes. The nurse I hadn't seen before turned for the door to call the morgue attendant, but Ellen lingered a few moments, smoothing the blanket, placing Martha's hands over her chest, then headed for the door. I exerted my will slightly and she looked over her shoulder, frowning.

"Thank you," I said to her as she jerked around, seeing me faintly. Before she could really freak out, I faded, then went back to where I belonged.

I didn't cry until I got to the quarters I shared with Tony. He held me and wiped my tears. This was why Odin didn't want us contacting those we'd loved in life; separation a second time was far harder and now my little girl was gone beyond my reach. Tony cheered me up by remembering things she'd done.

"She was a funny kid," he said affectionately. "She acted like a teenager, all drama, for about a month when she was almost sixteen. Then Wayne said she couldn't come into work with him if she was going to act like a brat, and that was that. She turned just as charming as her mother." He nudged me and I managed a watery laugh.

"I'm not noted for my charm," I admitted. "Any of that she got from her father. She absorbed a lot of charm from you and Loki too."

"Good role models," he said modestly, making me laugh for real. We talked about my daughter for the rest of the evening, and I was glad I'd been able to be with her at her end. She was still awesome. As awful as my pregnancy had been, once it was over it was worth every second of the time I'd had with her and her twin. And I found myself hoping that wherever she was, she was taking after me, just a little. Raising hell, just a bit, a touch of her mother to go with her into new adventures.


	15. Afterward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is another story from the Alex Barnes books.

Personal notes of Colin James:

I offered to postpone the remaining interviews I had scheduled, but most of them said that they wanted to talk. They've been really lucky this time around. They've been hurt, certainly, Serena's the only one who has died, though, come to think of it.

This book is going to be my last, though. If there's another resurrection down the line, I'm going to find something else to do. Following superheroes is nervewracking and it's been both a blessing and a curse to know the Avengers as well as I do. Based on my initial interviews with her, I'd have never thought that Alex Barnes would be so intriguing, but then... I didn't know then what I know now. At least I got most of her interviews out of the way before she was killed. If I'd proposed it earlier, I don't think she'd have done it, but with retirement, she'd wanted to turn over a new leaf, I think. And I think she wanted it to be known what she'd done. Not in a personal glorification, but just to set the record straight. After the battle in Egypt, questions about Valkyrie would pop up, people wondering what happened, if she was just a coward for quitting.

CJ: Thanks for speaking with me. I know this is a difficult time for you.

Bucky Barnes: Her death was a shock, but... not unexpected, you know? She gave up Valkyrie, but she didn't give up doing good. Although lately it was limited to doing things like tripping a purse snatcher and lecturing him until the cops arrived. (Laughs) But Alex wasn't comfortable being known for those abilities. She could have joined the Avengers at any time during her first life or in her second; Tony made it clear that all she had to do was say the word. The Justice League, too, she has more than her fair share of friends there. But she saw the cost of what I went through and she wouldn't be moved. Part of the superhero thing includes a certain selfishness in personal relationships, because you have to put the greater good above individuals, and Alex doesn't like hurting the people she loves. Natasha's death from cancer hit her hard; Natasha'd been a mentor and Hawkeye had taught her archery, this really marked her and reinforced her decision not to join in her first life. And in her second life, she had her family and that business. She always teased Tony about his business empire but she built one herself. But her core strength was a desire to help others. She took what I'd taught her for her self-defense and started early. She helped me out here and there with teaching while she was in high school, then when she went to college, she found a gym that was an unofficial meeting place for enhanced kids. Some of them just wanted to train but others wanted to be street-level heroes, and she taught them how to fight. It wasn't hard for Stark to convince her to take up training the Avengers. I think she would have gone to work for Wayne when her business failed, going to and from work with Damian was a powerful incentive, if Stark hadn't thrown in the offer to take over for me.

CJ: Did she ever figure out why her first business failed, the one that catered to the street-level heroes? Because if ever a bunch of people needed help like that, it's those folks.

BB: Yeah, actually. Most of the street-level heroes are young. It's a terribly hard job, and life expectancy is a an issue, but even more pressing is the injuries that limit a career. Turned out that they couldn't afford to pay, most of them, and were too proud to accept charity. It took a long time for them to come around to the idea; it wasn't until the clinic was moved out of Avenger Tower and thus away from that shadow that they started to warm up to the idea. When funding arrived from the state, that's when they really started to use the services. She was just ahead of her time. And I hate to say it, but she'd have been wasted there. With her background she was able to innovate aspects of training that I'd have never thought of, fine-tuning training for each individual and working with the physios to maximize recovery from wounds or injuries. And look what she accomplished as the head of Stark Labs.

CJ: I suspected that there's a lot more to her than she was willing to talk about, that first time I interviewed her for the last edition of the Avengers biography.

Steve Rogers: She never did like to talk about herself much. But any time I think I'm getting too big for my britches, I remember how we met and that deflates my head. (laughs)

CJ: So you sort of adopted her as your niece?

SR: Well, no, it was more like she allowed me to be an uncle to her. Buck really missed her when he first came to Folkvangr and didn't talk about her much, but there wasn't anybody happier than him when he found that she was in Valhalla. Then he told me all about her, well, not all, because there were things that he respected her privacy about, but I was envious of that relationship. And after awhile she started to relate to me as an uncle too, I think as kind of a favor for Buck, and that kind of filled a gap in my life. I never had children til after the Return, and this was more than I expected. She's one of the toughest people I've ever met, but she has some soft and fragile places that she guards very carefully. She chooses her companions carefully, so it was pretty much an honor to receive that for myself.

BB: When Alex gets on a tear, the best thing you can do is step back, let her do her thing, and support her where you can. (laughs) She whipped Odin into shape, and believe me, that was not an easy task.

CJ: Do you think she's back in Valhalla, or does that even exist now that Ragnarok's over?

BB: I know she's there, Thor and Loki both confirmed it for the family. Valhalla never ceased to exist; it's where heroes repose, after all. It was just empty for a time. Alex was a true valkyrie from the moment she first accepted the charge.

CJ: Why didn't she ever come out and say she was Valkyrie? Or, I guess, why did she wait so long?

BB: An odd mix of caution, plus she didn't want to be hassled about not choosing to be a superhero. (shakes his head) When there was the trial over the release of the Ragnarok documentary, you should have seen the reaction she got. Most people who sent messages were really hateful, called her a freak and worse, and she even got death threats. That's really why she proposed letting the world see the valkyries, really, during the trial. In their glory. For the most part. She wasn't going to take any crap about it, and it was also a way to reassure people that they weren't out of control psychos. She made herself not be afraid of the negative reaction. But that all affected her. She's a lot like Stevie, whose motto might as well be that the strong protect the weak and I think it hurt her that people didn't necessarily see that when they looked at the valkyries. She really loved her wings and I know that she missed just being able to fly. She did at her home, where access was controlled and she could be private, but it wasn't the same. But after the battle, she wanted a peaceful life and she built a really amazing business, one that let her have a considerable impact for good. I was glad that she was being seen for herself, not as Tony's employee or her husband's wife, but for her own skills.

CJ: What were the wings like for her?

BB: She loved them, which was good, considering the price she paid for them. She almost died, and when she became a valkyrie again, the bond was different, so her wings were different. She didn't know that until after the battle, of course.

CJ: Right, she pissed Odin off, he broke the bond, which would have led to a slow death, and couldn't establish it the same way again.

BB: Right. Somehow the bond was made to the World Tree, which is the source of the valkyries' power anyway, but Odin acted as the conduit. So when Odin was killed and returned to Valhalla, her wings didn't fade because the World Tree still lives. She used to get so irritable when they molted. They itched. (snorts a laugh) But in true Alex style, she made the most of them. She got Tony and Emma to work on a coating that strengthened the feathers for combat and the later versions stiffened the edges enough that they could cut. A sword and a shield all in one. Anything that kept her safer was a bonus to me.

SR: She picked up traditional weapons like I never could, aside from the shield. I'm much better with guns. And she made beautiful blades. Of course, she had hundreds of years to hone her skills.

BB: It was a treat, aesthetically speaking, to watch her fight with those two swords of hers. Her mutations made her more graceful, and once she got into hard training, that dance combat thing was really spectacular. It was gratifying to be her teacher, she really paid attention and did her best to master the material. She never took the easy way out or slacked off. 

CJ: That scared the shit out of me, actually, just seeing that. Somebody who moved like that, so beautifully, shouldn't be so deadly. Bucky, what would you say the biggest difference in Alex was between her first and second lives?

BB: Huh. (thinks) I guess I would say that she really knows herself, her strengths and weaknesses, and she doesn't bother to cover them up. As long as I've known her, she's had a pretty good awareness of her abilities and a good sense of what the consequences were likely to be if she acted. For example, before she met me the first time, it wasn't just a matter of getting her courage up to meet somebody who was, frankly, pretty dodgy. (Rogers laughs) She wanted family around; hers was in a different state and she's very attuned to being part of a family. So she thought through what it was likely to be like if I acknowledged her as family or if I didn't, so she'd be prepared. It was a big deal for her; she was unsure and kind of timid back then, but she never lacked courage. It turned out to be not at all what she was expecting, she didn't think I'd take such an interest in her, but she got what she hoped for--family--so the rest was just extra.

CJ: Why did you take her under your wing?

BB: Well, she was family, but more importantly, from the beginning, she expected me to be the kind of guy your book presented me as. A reformed assassin, plus she had stories from my sister Becca about the family. She was aware that I still hadn't reconciled what I'd had to do, but she was never afraid of that darkness inside me. And I really wanted to live up to her conception of me. She turned out to be really good training for me as a dad, this time around. I'd have been a terrible dad back then, what with all my issues. It was kind of terrifying to realize how much she trusted me. And it meant a lot to me that she wasn't scared of me, that she recognized that I had things I could teach her, and, I think, she realized on some level that she could help me too although she never articulated that. (pause) She's big on reclamation projects. First me, then Tony, then Damian. That kid also discovered what it meant to be her friend, and he had a long way to go to measure up as husband potential. (all three laugh)

CJ: Now, Steve, you're justly famous as a fashion designer, and I guess the women adore how you've interpreted past eras of design that they're familiar with and comfortable with but updated with your own unique vision. (Rogers nods, a little embarrassed, and Barns smirks at him) You've got Emma Harrington as your wife, and her admiration for your talent and skills is well known. How did Alex come to be your muse?

SR: Emma was really supportive of my work, especially when we were Avengers together and I could design her costumes. Part of that was that she wanted me to remember that I had other strengths too, and to force the others to acknowledge it too. But she's a creature of habit; she acquires pieces she likes and wears them to death, only reluctantly adding to her wardrobe. But Alex loved fashion, she had wonderful taste, and like Emma, she wanted to make it possible for others to see what I could do. She bailed me out at crucial points in my career by modeling for me, both when I was a student and that first collection, and she had the ability to make anything look good. Which was fortunate for me. (Barnes drops his head back and groans at the ceiling) I respected her judgment about what she liked and didn't, she always had sound reasons and demanded good construction, and this kind of guided me until I developed my style. And she was a really good sport about wearing my clothes. She really helped me establish my house.

(Barnes punches Roger's arm. Hard) BB: You know she loved your clothes, punk. The detail you put into them really mattered to her, and the way you used classic techniques and production methods. The only reason that she wore other designers was because it was politic to do so, but her favorite outfits were yours. She always said it was like you understood exactly what she wanted and that her outfits made her look better than she should. That green velvet gown with the silver embroidery and that flapper dress you made for the opening of her Valkyrie building were some of her most cherished possessions. It's even in her will that the family has to preserve them as long as possible. In case there's another resurrection, she wants them back. (Rogers snorts, embarrassed.)

***

CJ: Thanks for making the time to talk to me, Tony.

Tony Stark: My pleasure. Alex never got the credit she deserved. (snorts) She'd probably tease me that I hogged all the limelight anyway.

CJ: You guys were pretty close even though your romantic relationship failed.

TS: Alex is very perceptive, and in our first lives she felt that some people were taking advantage of what I had to offer but not really respecting me, and she was determined that she wouldn't be one of those people. You always knew where you stood with her, and she never wanted a handout. When she went to meet her uncle, it wasn't about what he could do for her in terms of getting to hang around an Avenger, anything material. She refused his offer to pay for college, but then she got scholarships to cover everything. It was just that she wanted to meet her family, and she saw how isolated he was too. During our first lives, I was more than twice her age and her boss besides, there was nothing going on there, but it was very satisfying for me when she consented to be my protege, even if it was the opportunity to work with Barnes that brought her to the company. Her sense of loyalty is enormous. Then after, we were just two people in the same afterlife and we related differently then. But I knew that there'd always be a part of her that loved Wayne, I'd never have all of her love, so that was the end of our romantic relationship because I wanted all of it. Come to think of it, she taught me a lot of what I know about good relationships, between two equals. I certainly didn't see that at home. Without it, I don't think I'd have been able to have a lasting relationship with Ann. But that didn't mean that I didn't value Alex or wasn't grateful for her friendship and indulgence. Because let's be frank, I'm not the easiest person to be around. And you really can't overstate her good qualities. You found yourself wanting to be the person she thought you were. Or not; I didn't admit it to myself at the time, but after her first job with me blew up, I didn't want to be the complete asshole she thought I was. It took a lot of baby steps to start to correct that. Not that she was perfect; she could be sarcastic, snarky, she had a temper, wasn't shy about sharing her opinions, as people *coughs*Odin*coughs* found out, and if you didn't live up to her expectations, you felt like you let her down. But these were easy to dismiss because she was just pretty awesome.

CJ: Barnes says that she's back in Valhalla.

TS: I'm not at all surprised.

CJ: Do you want to go back too?

TS: Honestly, no. I'm hoping for a more technologically-advanced afterlife when it's time, after a lot more time has elapsed.

CJ: You'll miss her.

TS: Absolutely, but I'm also pretty sure that she's found ways into other afterlives so that she can visit anybody she wants. Maybe not the Egyptians, though. They creeped the hell out of her. Me too, if we're being honest. Those gods... they were like nothing I've ever seen. I prefer more normal gods, ones you can reason with.

CJ: (Taunting) Manipulate. Browbeat.

TS: (Primly) Those are your words. (Devilish grin)

***

CJ: How are you holding up?

Damian Wayne: (managing a smile) I've been better. Alex was my heart. It's a cold and colorless world without her. I should be grateful, and I am, that we shared two lifetimes. It's just that I promised her we'd grow old together. (A couple of tears roll down his face) I guess I shouldn't make promises I can't keep. These days, sixty is still middle age.

CJ: Are you sure you want to talk about her right now? We can postpone. You're not looking so good.

DW: (half-laughing) I know I look like shit. I'm not sleeping so well without her beside me. And I miss Eira, too. She went back to Asgard. Alex told her to go and live her life after she was gone, that Eira knew where to find her when her time came. She didn't want Eira to sacrifice herself the way Sigurd and Torburn did when Emma died. Besides, it helps to talk about her. Alfred is gutted, so are her brother, parents, Miles and Iris, although Martha and Xander are handling it better, but they've done this before. It's new to the rest of us, having to live without her. Without her, I'd have probably been an adult version of the spoiled, selfish kid that I was when I met her. I probably would have gotten married and divorced because I didn't really know how transformative the right love can be. I keep thinking, "Oh, I have to tell Alex this" and then I remember.

CJ: At least you're not alone, though. Well, tell me what she was thinking when she told the world that she was Valkyrie. It was a very dramatic announcement, those enormous wings appearing. She wore them like a cloak.

DW: Well, it was one of those times where politicians were railing against superheroes and the damage they cause, some were calling them out as demons, you know, which is counterproductive because there are so few people willing to be heroes these days. No shortage of the villains, though. (James nods) And she'd just made the decision to retire so that we could spend more time together. She felt that her legacy with her company was secure. (bites his lip as his eyes fill) She was a little testy, plus the wings were finishing a molt. She was still a little itchy. So somebody cornered her, asking how she could defend freaks like her and her uncle. She kind of lost her temper and told him to come to a press conference she'd arrange in a week. That would give her feathers the last bit of time they needed to come in new and magnificent. She was just tired of people ragging on the heroes. You can't satisfy everybody, and heroes either cause too much damage, they don't prevent everybody from being hurt and killed, they're in it for the ego... you've heard it all. (James nods, and Wayne begins to laugh) She got Steve to make a special order. He knew what she was going to do and made the most beautiful dress for her to wear. Apparently it looked similar to a dress Frigga had given her in Valhalla, green velvet with real silver embroidery,discreet openings on her back, with these cute little green velvet slippers. She strode out onto the platform she'd had set up in the lobby of Valkyrie, the dress flowing beautifully, and gave the press seven kinds of hell for always being derogatory about the heroes, the street-level ones as well as the supers, that they should be thankful that there were people around who were willing to save their ungrateful asses, and that they should think long and hard about what the heroes endure on their behalf if they were that upset about the declining number of people willing to put on a costume and risk their lives. (James laughed)

CJ: Then she stopped, looked around, and smiled. Some dumbass said she was a hypocrite because she'd completely bailed in this life, at least she'd been a trainer before. Then those wings just materialized and the crowd gasped. She let us have a good look, then drew a feather and chucked it at the dumbass. It stuck in his shoe. 'You might have known me as Valkyrie,' she said, and the place was just silent for an electrifying second before the questions just exploded.

DW: (nodding) It all boiled down to accusations that she was selfish for being a vigilante, for not joining a team. She draped her wings around her and said that she didn't owe anybody, that being a hero is a matter of individual choice, and that she already helped save their sorry selves once, she wasn't going to do it time after time, and that she'd faced gods and criminals, and that this should be enough for them. Then somebody called her an abomination. I was ready to rip whoever it was apart, but she just smiled. 'Jealous?' she asked mockingly. "All of this is why I wasn't willing to be a hero. Why should I put up with being called a freak of nature and an abomination when literally all I get is criticism, name calling, and calls to either lock me up or kill me? I have a great life with a wonderful family, and I've done more than my share for the public good. What have you ever done?" She explained, using small words and short sentences, that if people wanted heroes to protect them again, that they should treat them the way that they would want to be treated. So that was the last great good that she was able to do. She was mad about it.

CJ: Congress is having a final vote on legislation to officially limit the liability of heroes for damage and to provide funds for public education to combat ignorance and a PR campaign to help attract new heroes. It got a big boost because Alex stepped up again when she had to, even though she didn't do it formally. There will always be villains.

DW: And there will always be people who want to help. They may not put on costumes and act like heroes, but they'll do what they're doing now, helping where they see the need. That might be her biggest public legacy, reframing the superhero issue. (Rubs his forehead) That feather on display in the Valkyrie building was one of hers. After the announcement and then again after her death, people broke in to try to steal it. They had to change the display so that to get it out, you'll practically have to tear down the building.

CJ: It would be quite valuable, I imagine. The last feather from one of the actual valkyries, the legendary Alex Barnes.

DW: Joke's on them. There's a big bag of them at home, a complete set. She saved the best feathers from each molt so that if she had to imp any back in, they'd look good. (chortles) You couldn't call Alex vain about much, but she did love those wings. I guess not a complete set anymore, I gave feathers to everybody in the family who wanted one, plus her friends. Want one?

CJ: (gobsmacked) Yes, please.

DW: I'll send one over. They don't have the coating on them, so they're nice and soft, really beautifully iridescent. You know the story of Alex and the swans, don't you?

CJ: No. I'd be fascinated to hear it, though.

DW: Well, the Norn who was the original valkyrie used feathers from her swans to make the first cape for the valkyries, and apparently they've never forgotten or forgiven it. Alex was the only valkyrie who really visited them and they took it out on her. Terrorized her by chasing her around. (grins) One bit her, broke her finger. She always tried to bribe her way into their good favor with treats, but they never really warmed up to her. Still, they saved her life in Ragnarok by drawing attention to her, so she put up with their bad behavior. She still kind of hated them, though.

CJ: (laughs) Somehow that sounds like something that would only happen to Alex. (Damian nods, grinning) To turn to something more personal, if I can. (DW nods) You've always seemed pretty calm for somebody who's got a wife who puts herself in harms' way like that. And to be frank, on paper you two didn't quite add up. You were the heir to Wayne Enterprises, a legitimate business genius, famous and socially prominent. She wasn't. How did that come about?

DW: Well, she saved my life. I got mugged in a garage, ended with a knife in my gut, and she got me to help. I kinda fell in love with her then, but we had a falling out over the Joker. I let her down. She didn't hesitate to call me out on it, and to be frank, that was a total novelty for me. My dad kind of reined me in, but nobody really told me off like that. It was really eye opening, and after that I just wanted to be a better person, to show her that her that I'd really listened to her, because she was justified in ripping me a new one. In college, I realized what a gem she was. Nobody ever came close. She wasn't always right, but she always had the courage of her convictions, and she didn't try to dodge the consequences of her actions. She always dealt with the fallout. She was so strong, respectful where people had earned it, but not a kiss-up. I worked really hard, step by step, to show her that I wasn't what she thought I was, that I had changed. That I could measure up. Because she didn't compromise her principles. (Sigh) And it paid off. She took everything I threw at her with aplomb.

CJ: What did you throw at her? I'm not trying to be snide, I just don't know what you could have put her through, it's always been obvious that you adore her, and the reverse.

DW: (starts to laugh) Oh, you have no idea. (laughs harder)

CJ: (cajolingly) You can tell me.

DW: (Laughter winding down) It's a secret, one that still needs to be kept.

CJ: (instantly) I can keep a secret. I can arrange for the information to be secret for as long as it has to be.

DW: (thinking) Alex would approve, I think. Dad won't. (Snorts. CJ leans forward) I'm Batman. Or I was. Nightfall, too. Dad was the original Batman, one of the current ones as well. And there will be a Batman for as long as Gotham needs one. (DW grins, then laughs big belly laughs as CJ's mouth drops open and he struggles for words.)

(Dead silence)

CJ: WHAT???? You can't leave it at that. What the hell? How did that happen? Oh, my god. Holy crap. I've got to know more. Did Alex know?

DW: Like I could keep it from her. She used her paramedic training to patch me up on more than one occasion. She found out about it while we were in high school, the incident in the garage. The attackers weren't muggers, they'd been sent by my mother and her father. Tell me you wouldn't fall in love with a girl who got you to help and actually started to save your life. The stories I could tell....

CJ: Tell me.


End file.
